Jacen Solo is the eldest son of Han Solo and Leia Organa Solo and the twin to Jaina Solo. Some other bio info here to fill in the blank.

This thread will be divided into the following categories:

• Force Powers
  • Flow-Walking
  • Sever Force
  • Shatterpoint
• Physicals
• Oneness

For easy use viewing this thread and going straight to certain sections, you can use the buttons Ctrl + F to search for specific words such as "Oneness" and then you should be able to quickly go to the section of your choice without having to scroll through the whole thread.

Force Powers

Flow-walking

Flow-walking is a very rare ability that allows a Force user to view the past and the future, and sometimes affect both the past and the future.

A method through which Aing-Tii monks communicated with the Force. By touching the flow of the Force, an Aiing-Tii monk could figuratively walk along it, thereby reading the intentions of the Force. Truly adept monks could use this technique to time-drift, traveling forward and backward in time along the threads of the Force. There was always a risk of being discovered when flow-walking, and those using the technique tended to leave a "blur" behind, especially if they moved too fast. Flow-walkers needed to stay anchored to their own time or else the current of time could literally sweep them away; events that occurred while flow-walking could cause injury to individuals in their own time.

Jacen Solo learned the technique, and it helped him make some sense of his grandfather Anakin Skywalker's fall to the dark side. Jacen could only flow-walk when in a certain location, and only to another time at the same location. With much practice, he managed to improve his use of the technique, and even taught it to Tahiri Veila.

Source: The Complete Star Wars Encyclopedia

Flow-walking can't change anything in the past because the Force will correct it to the current present timeline:

"It's us doing harm that worries me," Tahiri replied. "What if we change something we shouldn't -- something that alters the present?"

"That's unlikely." Actually, Jacen should have said impossible. Any change they made in the past would be corrected by the Force, and the flow would return to its present course. But he did not explain that to Tahiri. He needed her to believe they were taking a small but terrible chance, risking temporal catastrophe to deal with her unresolved grief.

Source: Legacy of the Force - Inferno

Jacen is able to sense things that happened in the past to the crashed Tachyon Flier ship and determine that nothing currently is a danger to him:

As his eyes grew attuned to the dim light, Jacen realized that he was looking into the hold area. The adjustable cargo decks had left their tracks in the crash and fallen into what had been the top of the ship, burying the bridge and crew quarters beneath a tangle of twisted, half-melted durasteel. Seeing that no insects were crawling over the inside of the ship, he closed his eyes and listened for any stirrings in the Force that might explain their reluctance to enter. He heard the whisper of a long-spent inferno and the faint scream of twisting metal, but nothing to alarm him now.

Source: Dark Nest I: The Joiner King

Jacen flow-walks back in time to when the Tachyon Flier crashed and witnesses what happens to Raynar Thul, Lomi Plo, and Welk. Raynar even manages to see Jacen during the flow-walk and later recalls to Leia that he remembers Jacen being there for an instant:

Jacen began a slow breathing exercise. The harsh smell burned his nostrils at first and threatened to make him nauseous, but as he centered himself in the Force and slowly detached from his emotions, the odor grew less biting, its implications less painful. He placed a hand on the wall and imagined it growing warm under his touch.

The staleness seemed to fade from the air inside the wreck, then the smell of old soot turned to the acrid bite of smoke. Jacen's eyes started to water as he looked back through the Force. His lungs were racked by an endless fit of coughing, and the cabin grew hot and orange. Where he was touching the wall, his palm began to sting and blister. He held it in place and looked over his shoulder.

The flight deck was hidden behind a curtain of smoke and rolling flame. Geysers of fire retardant rose from the ceiling nozzles, creating swirling ghosts of pink fog. Howls of human anguish drowned out the scream of buckling metal.

A single figure crawled out of the smoke, hairless and coughing and blistered raw. His face was unrecognizable, but four gashes ran diagonally across his chest, the wound hanging half open where the fleshglue had dissolved in the heat. One hand trailed behind, dragging a pair of levitated shapes along by their cloak collars. The two shapes were still burning, writhing in the air and flailing against each other in their pain.

Smoke began to rise from beneath Jacen's palm, and the smell of cooking flesh filled the air. He kept his hand pressed against the wall. Pain no longer troubled him. Pain was his servant; he had learned that from Vergere.

The crawling figure reached the hatchway and paused, turning in Jacen's direction. The face was too scorched and swollen to recognize, but the eyes belonged to Raynar, questioning and proud and so terribly naive. The two of them locked gazes for a moment, then Raynar cocked his head in confusion and started to open his mouth . . .

Jacen pulled his hand from the wall. The figures vanished instantly, returning him to a flight deck filled with the stale smell of ash and clouds of pink dust.

Source: Dark Nest I: The Joiner King

Raynar mentions to Leia that he remembers seeing Jacen at the crash site and that Jacen had given him the strength to lift and save Lomi Plo and Welk:

"Jacen investigated the Crash," Leia said. "He saw you pull Welk and Lomi Plo out of the flames."

The Unu fell deathly quiet, and Raynar's gaze swung to Leia. "Saw us?"

"Through the Force," she clarified.

"Yes—we remember." Raynar nodded and closed his eyes. "He was there . . . on the bridge . . . for just a moment."

"You saw Jacen?" Han gasped.

"That's impossible," Leia said. "He would have had to reach across time—"

"We saw Jacen. He gave us the strength to continue . . . to pull them . . . " Suddenly Raynar stopped and turned toward the center of the nursery.

Source: Dark Nest I: The Joiner King

Jacen flow-walks on the Tachyon Flier and notices that Leia will arrive at the crash site some time in the future, so he leaves a vision for her there with the name of the planet he and the other Myrkr survivors are going to be:

He squatted on his haunches and ran his fingers through the dirt, searching for any sign that Raynar and the others had died here. When he found no more large bones, he pictured the raw and blistered face he had seen on the flight deck, then called on the Force again, trying to reach into the past and learn what had become of Raynar.

But this time, the Force opened itself to him in its own way. Instead of the smoke and scorched flesh he had smelled on the flight deck, the odor it brought down to him was fresh and fragrant and familiar, a smell he had known since childhood.

Jacen looked up at the crater rim and was puzzled to find an image of his mother there, frowning across the gap at the Flier's blast-pocketed hull. She was wearing a white blouse with a brown skirt and vest that reminded Jacen of his father's swashbuckling style, right down to the holstered blaster hanging on her hip. There were some new strands of gray hair and a few more laugh lines around her mouth, but she looked healthy and content, and Jacen's heart leapt at the sight of her. The last time he had seen her face had been over five standard years ago, before leaving on his odyssey of self-discovery, and he was astonished at the joy even a vision of it brought to him.

Jacen swallowed his surprise and tried instead to simply concentrate on what the Force was revealing to him. He knew that she was not actually standing there now, but at some other time. And, since his mother was the only figure he could see, she was probably the link to discovering what had become of Raynar.

She turned to someone he could not see, then asked, "What happened to the crew?"

There was a pause while she listened to the reply. Jacen could imagine only one thing that would bring his parents this deep into the Unknown Regions, the heart of the Colony itself. They had to be looking for the strike team.

His mother looked back to the Flier. "I mean the rest of the crew. We know Raynar survived."

Jacen had his answer, but he was not ready to release the vision—not yet. He looked up at his mother's image, reaching out to her in the Force the strengthen their contact.

"Hello."

Her gaze dropped toward Jacen's voice, then she furrowed her brow and reached out, as though grasping for someone's arm. "Jacen has been here."

Has. So they were still behind him.

The guide snapped its mandibles next to Jacen's ear. "Bubu ruu bu?"

"No one. Sorry." Continuing to hold the vision through the Force, Jacen finally took the helmet and flight suit. "Okay. Where am I going?"

The guide replied that Jacen wouldn't recognize the name of the system. It was on the Chiss frontier.

Up on the crater rim, the vision of his mother frowned. "Jacen? I'm having trouble hearing you."

Jacen ignored her and continued to speak to the guide. "Humor me. In case something happens and I need to find my own way."

The navigator spread its antennae. "Burubu," it answered. "Ur bu Brurr rubur."

"Jacen?" His mother's face grew pale. "How? You're not—"

"I'm fine, Mom," he said. "I'll see you soon."

The guide turned a bulbous eye toward the crater rim.

"Qoribu," Jacen said, looking up at his mother. "In the Gyuel system."

[...]

The insect began a lengthy explanation, which C-3PO translated: "That is where Yoggoy found Raynar Thul. He was badly burned and barely alive."

Leia forced her attention back to the guide and said, "I mean, what happened to the rest of the crew?" She knew what Yoggoy was going to say—that there had been no one else—but when confronted with an obvious lie, a good interrogator kept asking the same question in different ways, trying to find a seam that she could pry open to expose the truth. "We know Raynar survived."

A familiar touch came to Leia through the Force, one that she knew instantly and certainly to be her son's, and she found herself looking away from their puzzled guide into the bottom of the crater. There, standing outside the burrow in a dirt- and soot- stained flight suit, was Jacen.

Or, rather, a vision of Jacen. The Flier's hull was still visible behind him, as was the mouth of the burrow.

He smiled and said, "Hello."

The blood drained from Leia's head, and she had to grab Han's arm to steady herself. "Jacen's been here."

"What?" Han peered into the crater. "I don't see anything."

Luke saved her the trouble of explaining. "The Force, Han. She's having a vision."

Han's voice immediately grew wary. "Great. Just what we need. First, Force-calls, now Force-visions."

"Quiet, Solo," Mara said. "Don't interfere."

Jacen said something Leia could not hear, then a helmet and X-wing flight suit appeared in his hands.

"Jacen," Leia said, frowning. "I'm having trouble hearing you."

Jacen spoke again, but still she could not hear him.

"Jacen?" Leia felt the color drain from her face. "How? You're not—"

"I'm fine, Mom," he said. "I'll see you soon."

"Uh-oh," Han said beside Leia. His hand tightened around her arm. "Looks like someone's been listening in."

Leia glanced over and saw three more deep blue insects pushing through the crowd gathered along the crater rim. They were clearly coming toward the Solo-Skywalker group, but Leia was not ready to leave yet. Jacen was still standing in the bottom of the crater, looking up at her.

"Qoribu," he said. "In the Gyuel system."

Source: Dark Nest I: The Joiner King

In doing this, Jacen actually altered Leia's future in these few moments, something that bothers Luke and Mara Jade Skywalker:

Leia nodded. "I think it's time to move on. We've found what we came for."

"We have?" Han asked.

"The Force-vision," Luke surmised. "What did you see?"

"Just Jacen," Leia said. "But he gave me the name of the planet and a system. I don't recognize them, but maybe Juun—"

"Jacen told you the system name?" Mara asked from the pilot's seat.

"That's right," Leia said. "He looked straight at me and said it. Why?"

"That is a strange kind of vision," Saba said.

"More of a sending," Luke agreed. "But across time instead of space."

The three Masters fell silent, leaving Han and Leia to look at each other in puzzlement.

Finally, Han said, "I don't get it. What's the problem?"

"I've never heard of a Jedi using the Force that way," Luke said. "So he's creative," Han asked. "He's my kid. What'd you expect?"

"I think I understand," Leia said, beginning to sound worried. "The future is always in motion . . ."

"But not yourz," Saba said. "When Jacen spoke acrosz time, you became destined to be there."

"He fixed your future," Luke said, "At least for those few moments."

Leia was silent for a moment, then said, "Well, I seem to have survived it. And my future is my own again."

"I don't like it," Mara said. "Not at all. What exactly was he learning while he was gone?"

Source: Dark Nest I: The Joiner King

Jacen Flow-walks and senses a possible future, letting the events of that possible future unfold over him. He sees war spread out from Corellia, pain engulfing the galaxy like nothing since the Yuuzhan Vong War, and it was all centered around him failing to kill Thrackan Sal-Solo at this moment:

"Very funny," Thrackan said. Jacen could feel just the tiniest trace of increased distress in the man's emotions.

Distress and—no, he was feeling something else, from somewhere else. Pain. Death. From the future.

From a future, one of any number of possible futures. Jacen peered into it, letting the events of that potential time line wash over him, but kept one eye on his cousin, alert through just his sight for any treachery.

Events flashed past him too fast to absorb all their meaning. Starfighters launched lasers and missiles, raining death on the innocent. Why not the guilty? He could see no guilty. Pilot versus pilot, soldier versus soldier, no one was guilty. Neither side was more evil, more dark.

War spread out from Corellia like ripples from a rock hitting the surface of a pond, and the rock was an image of Jacen and Thrackan. Jacen saw clouds of expanding gas where the brave had flown, corpse-littered fields where the brave had fought, near-unrecognizable ruins that had once been huge space vessels but were now crushed like beverage containers on the rocky surfaces of moons.

And pain—pain racking the Force like nothing had since the Yuuzhan Vong war. Pain twisting his skin. Shrieks of loss filled his ears.

He focused on the rock in the pond, the image of himself and Thrackan, and saw all these events unfolding from the point, the here and now, when he failed to kill Thrackan.

Shaken, he yanked himself back from the vision and stood there, breathing heavily.

Source: Legacy of the Force - Betrayal

Jacen is able to flow-walk into the past and future and catch a faint glimpse of Lumiya:

"Maybe, but I suspect we don't like it for different reasons." Jacen gave Leia an apologetic look. "Ever since Dad started talking about it, I've been looking. Sensing. Peering into the future and the past, to the extent that I can."

Leia nodded. "And?"

"And nothing. I don't see, or feel, any trace of something like that." He frowned. "There's the faintest touch of a female presence that feels antagonistic, malevolent. It has some flavor of the Force with it. But it's so faint that it doesn't have to pertain to the here and now. It could be a leftover from years or decades ago. It could be pre-Imperial."

"Could it be a Force-user who's here now, and using arts to diminish her presence?" Leia asked.

Jacen nodded. "Maybe."

Source: Legacy of the Force - Betrayal

Jacen flow-walks into the future and sees that either him, Lumiya, or Nelani Dinn will die in this moment:

"Now you're making things up," Jacen said. "Nelani, keep her here while I go find Ben."

Lumia shook her head. "You don't want Ben to be here. Someone's about to die. It might be you, it might be Nelani, and it might be me. Bring Ben here, and it might be him. Death is here among us, and it will be a very distressing one."

Frowning, Jacen cast out his senses like a net, sampling the present and the future. Pathways led in all directions, but in each of them one of the three people present fell dying. Jacen, head severed by a pliant whip of light. Lumiya, Nelani's lightsaber cutting her in half—lengthwise, so there was no chance of missing the organic parts. Nelani, her heart speared by Jacen's lightsaber. Jacen, stabbed from behind by Ben, the boy's uncomprehending features making it clear that he was seeing something very different from the reality before him. Lumiya, swept into a marble wall by Jacen's control of the Force, her skull shattered—

Jacen shut his eyes against the parade of tragedy. He opened them to view reality. "You're right. I can't see a path that doesn't lead to death. Let's revise our circumstances and see if any more options open to us in a minute or two."

Source: Legacy of the Force - Betrayal

Jacen flow-walks into the future and sees that Nelani Dinn arresting Lumiya leads to the Galactic Alliance crumbling and Jacen fighting and killing Luke Skywalker:

Her voice low, Nelani said, "Put your hands behind your back." As Lumiya obeyed, Nelani pulled a pair of stun cuffs from her belt pouch.

Jacen frowned. There was something wrong about this situation, and for a moment he suspected treachery on Lumiya's part, but a glimpse into the likely immediate future dispelled that notion. He saw Lumiya obedient, unresisting, being led back to the shuttle.

His mind flickered forward through the likely time streams. The future, as Yoda had said so frequently and famously that the quotation littered the Jedi archives, was always in motion, and many potential futures led from this event.

But they began congregating in certain areas. Nelani testifying against Shira Brie, also known as Lumiya, also known as Lumiya Syo. Lumiya convicted, being executed, being locked up in solitude, being locked up in a mass prison and assassinated by someone whose father she had killed decades ago. All she knew vanishing, dying with her.

Along all these paths, the galaxy continued to come unhinged, rebellion sparking in all corners, the Galactic Alliance crumbling, like a cancer-racked body, eating itself from the insides out, whole populations dying.

Detonators destroying this place, blowing the asteroid into millions of pieces, scattering the knowledge hidden here. An ancient Star Destroyer raining turbolaser destruction down on the surface of Ziost, purging it of knowledge lingering there.

Scores of time lines congregated on Jacen Solo and Luke Skywalker, bringing them together. The two of them faced each other, their surroundings changing every second as the scene slipped from time line to time line, yet their poses and the lightsabers lit in their hands remained the same, as did the anger and tragic loss twisting both their faces.

They spun, they struck, the impacts of their lightsabers causing flares of light to cast the walls and floors behind them into greater darkness. On and on they fought, their loss giving them strength, until—

Jacen cut Luke down. Sometimes it was a blow across the shoulder, down into the chest. Sometimes it was a slash, too fast to see, across the throat that sent the older man's head from his shoulders. Sometimes it was a thrust to the stomach, followed by minutes of agony, Luke writhing in a futile struggle for life while Jacen, tears running down his cheeks, knelt nearby.

Luke died.

Luke died.

"No," Jacen whispered. He summoned himself back to the here and now.

Source: Legacy of the Force - Betrayal

Jacen then flow-walks into the possible futures where Nelani Dinn doesn't arrest Lumiya and still sees the future lead to himself fighting and killing Luke Skywalker, which influences his final decision to kill her:

Nelani and Lumiya were walking away. The younger woman held the older by the shoulder, guiding her.

Jacen lit his lightsaber and struck. Nelani jumped away, but the glowing blade merely parted the cuffs that held Lumiya's hands together behind her back.

Both women looked at him.

"She remains free," Jacen told Nelani. "If you take her . . . " He could not say the rest of the words. Luke dies. And I kill him.

There was more to it than that. For a moment, he was drawn back into the streams of probability that led him into the future.

Nelani could leave without her prisoner. She would return home to Lorrd and tell all to her superiors. To Luke,

Jacen cut Luke down. Luke died.

Nelani could be persuaded not to tell. She would rethink her promise later and break it, telling all to Luke.

Jacen cut Luke down. Luke died.

Only in the time streams where Nelani fell, never to rise, did Luke remain on his feet, in command, alive. Other tragedies, shadowy and indistinct, swirled around him, but he lived.

Jacen returned again to the present. The truth of what he had just experienced through the Force numbed him.

But it was the truth, and he had to be strong enough to face it.

Lumiya knew it, or had some sense of it. There were tears on her cheeks to match the ones he felt on his own. "There is this about being Sith," she told him. "We strengthen ourselves through sacrifice."

Jacen nodded, grudging acceptance of that fact. "Yes."

Nelani looked at him, and beyond him, into his intent.

With a noise that was half moan, she turned and fled.

Jacen raced after her.

Source: Legacy of the Force - Betrayal

Jacen Flow-walks back in time and sees part of Anakin Skywalker's assault on the Jedi Temple the night be became Darth Vader:

Jacen knew exactly where he was now, and it scared him. He had a finely tuned sense of where he was in space. Had he rolled back time by fifty-nine years to this exact distance from the planet's core, this exact distance from the planet's north pole, this very point in three dimensions, he would have been walking with his grandfather, Anakin Skywalker.

But I can walk back in time.

Jacen could time-drift. He was almost too afraid to. But he did, almost without thinking. As he projected himself into the past and merged with its reality, he saw a young blond Jedi with his lightsaber drawn, flanked by troops in white armor. Jacen was looking at him from behind. He could see the muscles in his jaw twitching as his head turned, seeking something: he could feel his dread and determination.

Nobody spoke. They were searching, all of them looking to one side then the other, aiming rifles and lowering them a little. Something terrible was happening.

Anakin.

Anakin Skywalker held his lightsaber two-handed, and for a moment Jacen was one with his grandfather's emotions. He was overwhelmed by a dread and reluctance—the same dread and reluctance he had felt himself when Lumiya told him his destiny. Jacen felt, too, a crushing sense of something terrible and deadly about to happen.

He hung back. He'd been spotted while time-drifting before and had been forced to withdraw. But he had to stay with this. He hardly dared think ahead.

I might be able to ask him. I might be able to ask Grandfather about his own fall to the Sith.

This would be his answer about his own path.

He touched Anakin's emotions again, comparing them with his own, and then he felt something that was not within him at all: it was desperate, terrified loss. For a second he couldn't identify it. Then it settled and became clear in the form of a tight sensation in his throat and the pressure of tears behind his eyes that stung and burned. It was very like the brief misery he had felt when he left Tenel Ka and his daughter. Anakin was facing separation from Padme, and was terrified by it.

But it wasn't a moment's emotion for his grandfather: it was the whole of him. Anakin had been driven to the dark side by agonized love. The revelation stunned Jacen because it was so narrow and so . . . selfish. Relief flooded him.

This is different. That isn't what I feel, or what's driving me.

And right then he wanted to talk to his grandfather more than anything he could imagine. It was a burst of love for a man he had never known—a man who had helped bring balance to the Force.

You're insane. You're going too far. Don't even think about influencing the past—

But he had absolutely no idea what the past really was, right up to the point where he saw the younglings approach Anakin, scared but clutching their lightsabers, telling him there were too many soldiers for them to drive off. Anakin stared down at them. Then he drew his own saber and Jacen tasted absolute grief and shame and duty.

He was hunting Jedi. He was killing them somehow for Padme's sake. His reasoning was vivid and focused. Jacen knew that Anakin had done this, but seeing it—feeling it—living it—was agonizingly new and shocking because the emotion was so desperately animal in its intensity.

No, I'm not feeling this. It's one of Lumiya's vile tricks. I'm not seeing this.

Then one of the armored troopers appeared, raising his rifle, and Jacen jerked himself out of time and back to the present, heart pounding.

Source: Legacy of the Force - Bloodlines

Jacen uses the Fallanassi illusion technique to make himself invisible in the Jedi Temple in order to flow-walk back in time to learn more about Anakin Skywalker's fall to the dark side. He also shuts down his presence in the Force, so he is effectively invisible to the naked eye and to Force senses. He would keep up all three of these techniques for an extended amount of time:

Even the Jedi council had its business hours. Jacen always found that amusingly unspiritual. He could enter the Temple at any time, but he needed to be in the council chamber itself, and that required a little deception.

It also needed a massive Force effort from him, because he had to make himself invisible at the same time as shutting down his Force presence and flow-walking back in time. He doubted he could hold all three elements together for long. He had to enter the chamber, listen and look into the past, and leave no trace of his visit.

Jacen, back in his traditional robes again, wandered around the Temple archives room browsing the datafiles until there were only a few Jedi left reading at the terminals. They would hardly notice that he had disappeared among the shelves and not walked past them again. Concentrating on his body as if it were a shell, he used the Fallanassi skills he had learned to project an illusion of being nothing, of having transparency, and drew his Force presence so far inside himself that he vanished to all Jedi senses. A woman lost in thought while she stared unblinkingly at a screen took no notice of him when he sat down next to her. Now he could walk into the council chamber itself, unseen—he hoped.

The Temple, whose rebuilding had struck Jacen as a needlessly expensive statement of power, was now working in his favor. He had marshaled the courage to look into his grandfather's past again, and this was the place he needed to be to do that, on the site of the very chamber where Anakin Skywalker's fate had been decided. He slipped through the doors and stood within the circle.

The inlaid marble floor was said to be identical to the one on which Anakin would have walked. Jacen stared at it, wondering if he might see the floor through Anakin's eyes. He had felt his emotions. And he had seen through his own mother's eyes; it might be possible to do both at once.

Listen.

He felt the soles of his boots become part of the marble as if he were growing into the polished slabs like a tree. His head buzzed. Snatches of conversation washed over him until—like picking out the sound of his own name in the crowded, noisy room—he heard Anakin.

He felt as if he were braking on a long slide down a hillside. He felt the jolt in his mind, and the sounds in his head became clear. He didn't recognize the voices, but he could easily work out who some of them were.

"So is he the Chosen One?"

"Qui-Gon believes so."

"But what do we believe?"

"Skywalker is exceptional, but he's past the age of being trained."

"But is he the Chosen One?"

"If he is, then training him becomes irrelevant. He will either find his path or not."

"A logical argument you make, but direction is needed."

"Then who will train him? Who can train him? Perhaps nobody can take on the challenge."

"But if we do not train him, regret it we may."

"And none of us can take on a Padawan, and we have more pressing problems to deal with."

The last speaker was Mace Windu. Jacen recognized him from recordings, and his heart sank at how easily they had abdicated responsibility for Anakin considering that he was the Chosen One. Jacen sought parallels, more clues to where Anakin had gone astray on his path to show him the pitfalls to avoid.

This time he needed to see what had happened. He shut out the time-echoes of the voices again and slipped into a corner where he could hide if his Force-invisibility failed as he flow-walked into the past. The effort of sustaining all the techniques at once was making him sweat.

His head pounded and the image of the chamber blurred for a moment, but then it cleared and Jacen felt as if he had woken with a start. The Council sat in their ceremonial seats or appeared as holograms, and one of those present in the flesh was Anakin Skywalker, now a young man, and a very angry one. He was standing in the center of the chamber in a black cloak, arguing with Mace Windu and Yoda.

"Allow this appointment lightly, the Council does not. Disturbing is this move by Chancellor Palpatine."

"You are on this Council, but we do not grant you the rank of Master."

"What? How can you do this? This is outrageous! It's unfair! I'm more powerful than any of you. How can you be on the Council and not be a Master?"

"Take a seat, young Skywalker . . . "

Jacen watched for a few moments and both pitied and understood Anakin, and knew that he wasn't following his path, not at all. Poor Grandfather: gifted, exceptional, dismissed, barely tolerated, largely untrained, abandoned. No wonder he resorted to crazed, desperate violence. Had he received the training that Jacen had, if he had been able to perfect his powers and experience all uses of the Force—even those the Jedi academy shied away from teaching—then the galaxy might have been a very different place.

I'm the second chance.

The Jedi Council dropped the ball. And they paid for it.

Jacen had accepted his Sith destiny, but now he understood not only that it had to happen, but why. Everything in his life had led to this point because Anakin Skywalker's destiny had been subverted and warped by well-meaning but blind Masters, sending him off on a tangent to do a flawed Palpatine's biding instead of realizing his own full power.

[...]

He could maintain the time flow and invisibility no longer. He snapped out of the past and held his presence in check long enough to leave the chamber and pause farther down the corridor to catch his breath.

Source: Legacy of the Force - Bloodlines

It is not an easy mantle Jacen wears, but he is buoyed by the public support for his actions. Jacen is increasingly convinced that the dark side is not evil—in the hands of the right person, it’s the necessary application of force and action—sentiments once espoused by Vergere. For reassurance, Jacen flow-walks, a time-twisting Force ability that allows him to experience past events firsthand, to witness the actions of his grandfather, Anakin Skywalker, during the rise of the Empire. Jacen sees Anakin’s assault on the Jedi Temple and judges his grandfather to have been misguided; Anakin simply was not strong enough to resist the destructive power of the dark side. Jacen believes he can do better.

Source: The Essential Reader's Companion

Caedus Flow-walks with Jedi Knight Tahiri Veila back to the day Anakin Solo died in order for Tahiri to see him again and try to change the last words she said to him:

The scream and roar of combat began to reverberate through the empty grashal, and wisps of battle smoke materialized in the green beams of their lamps. Jacen—now Darth Caedus, he reminded himself—continued to pull into the past, one glove clamped around the arm of Tahiri's pressure suit, the other anchored to the rim of a blaster-pitted gestation bin. The brown stains on the bin's exterior grew wet and red, and crouching forms started to manifest in the surrounding darkness.

As he drew more heavily on the Force, the sallow light of glow-lichen began to shine down through the thickening smoke, revealing the cloning lab in which Jacen's brother, Anakin, had died. Where there had been only barren vacuum a few moments before, now a pulsing jungle of white nutrient vines corkscrewed up from the gestation bins that lined the grashal floor. Streaks of color and darkness were flashing past in both directions, the air swirling with razor bugs and the floor shaking with grenade detonations.

"I hope I'm ready for this," Tahiri said. Over the suit comm, her voice sounded brittle and uncertain. "Maybe my first flow-walk shouldn't have been into the middle of a battle."

Jacen knew it was not the battle that made Tahiri nervous, but he saw no advantage in forcing her to admit it. "We'll be fine," he said. "We're ghosts here. Even if a Yuuzhan Vong sees us, he can't do us harm."

"It's us doing harm that worries me," Tahiri replied. "What if we change something we shouldn't—something that alters the present?"

"That's unlikely." Actually, Jacen should have said impossible. Any change they made in the past would be corrected by the Force, and the flow would return to its present course. But he did not explain that to Tahiri. He needed her to believe they were taking a small but terrible chance, risking temporal catastrophe to deal with her unresolved grief. "I won't let you do anything wrong. Just relax."

"Unlikely isn't very relaxing," Tahiri replied. "Not when you're talking about fate of the galaxy."

"Trust me," Jacen said. "I've been flow-walking for years, and the galaxy hasn't come to an end yet."

"Not that we know of."

Tahiri turned toward the back of the grashal, where Anakin and the rest of the strike team were fighting through a breach in the wall. Their brown jumpsuits were blood-crusted and tattered, and their faces were haggard with fear and exhaustion—yet also tight with determination. This had been the objective of their mission, the cloning lab where the Yuuzhan Vong created the voxyn that had killed so many Jedi, and they would not leave until it was destroyed.

The Force began to hum with Tahiri's anger and sadness, and her hand drifted toward her lightsaber. Jacen could sense how she ached to do more than give Anakin the final kiss she had denied him at the time—how she longed to ignite her weapon and somehow prevent his approaching death.

A trio of thermal grenades detonated overhead, filling the dome with orange brilliance and spraying hot shrapnel in all directions. Nutrient vines fell in ropes of fire, and Yuuzhan Vong dropped to the floor in writhing heaps. Tahiri cringed and turned to dive for cover, but Jacen jerked her back. Shrapnel flew past without striking the pair, and flames licked at their pressure suits without melting anything.

"I told you we can't be harmed here," Jacen said.

"You also told me it was a coincidence we crossed paths on Anakin's anniversary day," Tahiri replied. "That doesn't mean I believe you."

Jacen frowned behind his visor. "You think I arranged to bump into you?"

"Come on, Jacen," Tahiri said. "I'm a smart girl."

Jacen hesitated, wondering how much she knew about what he had done a week earlier, whether she had linked their trip here to his aunt's murder on Kavan. It was foolish to think he could kill the wife of Luke Skywalker and avoid discovery indefinitely, yet he had to. Jacen had foreseen that the Confederation's boldness would soon put victory within the Alliance's grasp—but only if the Jedi did not intervene with his plans.

After a moment, Jacen said, "Okay, let's say I did arrange it. Why did you come?"

"Because I was tempted," Tahiri answered. "And I want to find out what you need from me."

"I don't need anything," Jacen lied. "I just thought this might help you move on."

"You expect me to believe that?"

"It's for Anakin, too," Jacen said. "I think my brother deserves this much . . . don't you?"

A guilty ripple rolled through the Force. "Not fair!" Tahiri protested. "And I still don't believe you."

Jacen raised the shoulders of his pressure suit in an awkward shrug. "Does that mean you don't want to go through with this?"

Tahiri sighed. "You know better than that."

"Then you have to trust my instructions," Jacen said. "You can't react to the past. The more you become a part of it, the more likely you are to be seen—and the more power it has to harm you."

"Okay, I understand." Over the suit comm, it was difficult to tell whether Tahiri's tone was resentful or embarrassed. "It won't happen again."

"Good."

Jacen turned back to the battle, where the momentary silence that had followed the grenade explosions had been shattered by the screaming blaster bolts and droning razor bugs. In the back of the grashal, Anakin was just rising to his feet as the strike team took advantage of the enemy's disarray to overrun the cloning lab. When Jacen saw his own figure dodging through the battle, he remembered how sad he had been for his wounded brother, how wrong it had seemed for the war to take such a noble young life. It was like watching himself in a home holo, wondering how he could ever have been so naive. Perhaps, once he united the galaxy, such idealism would no longer seem quite so foolish.

The boom of a longblaster sounded outside the grashal, then a trio of Jedi came rushing inside. The young Tahiri—then just fifteen—was in the lead. Her blond hair billowed behind her; the scars suffered during her imprisonment among the Yuuzhan Vong were still red on her forehead. She and the others had barely cleared the breach before a ball of yellow-orange fire followed them inside and exploded.

The shock wave hurled the Jedi in three different directions, but they quickly used the Force to bring their trajectories under control and come down safely. Young Tahiri tucked herself into a front roll and disappeared behind a gestation bin, then emerged from the other end returning to her feet. Anakin was already rushing to her side, his free hand cupped over his abdomen, his jaw clenched against the pain of his wound.

The voice of the older Tahiri came over the suit comm. "We need to move closer."

"Fine, but stay in contact with me or the current will carry you off." Still holding Tahiri's arm, Jacen started toward his brother and the young Tahiri. "And whatever you do, don't open your pressure suit. Our presences are still anchored in our own time, so you'll decompress."

"Thanks for the warning," Tahiri replied drily. "But I had kind of guessed."

Anakin and young Tahiri were now crouching together behind a gestation bin. Had his brother survived this battle, the pair would almost certainly have become lovers and then married. He sometimes wondered how that might have changed things, whether that extra bit of happiness and stability could somehow have kept the galaxy from spinning so wildly out of control.

As Jacen led the way around behind the pair, young Tahiri suddenly raised her arm and pointed across the aisle, toward a scorched bin overflowing with Yuuzhan Vong corpses. Next to the bin, the strike team's meter-high healer, Tekli, stood over the scaly bulk of Tesar Sebatyne. She was sprinkling stinksalts on the Barabel's forked tongue, trying to rouse him from his unconsciousness . . . and failing miserably.

Jacen continued to lead the way closer, moving very slowly and carefully. Flow-walkers tended to cause blurs around themselves both visually and in the Force, and the slower they moved, the less noticeable the effect would be.

As they approached, Anakin pointed toward Tekli and the wounded Barabel.

"Take him . . . and go," he said to young Tahiri. "You may need to cut a way out."

"You?" she responded. "I'm not going—"

"Do it!" Anakin snapped.

Her face fell, and even the older Tahiri began to radiate surprise and dismay into the Force.

Anakin's tone softened almost as soon as he had spoken. "You need . . . to help Tekli. I'll be along."

Even through a pressure suit's auditory sensors, Anakin's voice sounded weak and anguished, and it was clear that he had known even then he was about to die. A growing tightness began to form in Jacen's throat, and he was surprised at the effort of will required to make it go away. Jacen had loved his brother—and apparently still did—but he could not let his emotions draw him into the past. As he had warned Tahiri, any reaction at all would make them easier to see, and if the other strike team survivors suddenly started to recall a pair of blurry, pressure-suited apparitions at the battle, someone might realize he had flow-walked here with Tahiri—and that would make her useless to him.

By the time Jacen had quelled his emotions, Anakin had stood again. He was gently pushing young Tahiri across the aisle toward Tekli, who was kneeling astride Tesar's scaly bulk and trying to slap him awake. The Force grew heavy with older Tahiri's sorrow, but Jacen said nothing to her about the dangers of reacting to the past. He had known all along that she would not be able to control her emotions at this moment—he was counting on it—and he would just have to hope Tekli and the other survivors were too busy with the battle to notice any flow-walking apparitions.

"Tesar is not responding," Tekli said, looking across the aisle. "I cannot move him and work on him both."

Young Tahiri lowered her brow in doubt, clearly suspecting the Chadra-Fan of trying to draw her away from Anakin, but she could hardly refuse to help. Blinking back a tear, she stretched up to kiss Anakin—then caught herself and shook her head.

This was the moment when young Tahiri had pulled back, telling Anakin that if he wanted a kiss, he would have to come back for it. The Force seemed ready to break with the anguish of older Tahiri, who quickly stepped forward and pushed her younger self into Anakin's arms.

Young Tahiri's mouth fell open, but before she could cry out, Anakin leaned down and silenced her with a kiss. The surprise drained instantly from her posture, and they remained together, body pressed to body, for what seemed an eternity—even to Jacen, who often saw eternity in his visions.

Knowing by the sullen weight of the Force—and by his own breaking heart—that they were being drawn ever more deeply into the past, Jacen pulled the older Tahiri back to his side. If they were still there when the kiss ended, Tekli would certainly see them. In thirteen years or so—when Jacen and Tahiri returned to their own time—the Chadra-Fan would begin to recall seeing them here in their pressure suits. Once she reported her memory flashes to the Council, the Masters would realize that Jacen had flow-walked Tahiri back to the battle and begin to ask themselves why, and his plan would be ruined.

Jacen began to back them away, slowly releasing his hold on the past. The scream and roar of battle started to quiet, and the sallow light of the grashal's glow-lichens began to dim. Before long, all he could see were two forms locked in eternal embrace, their presences shining across time to illuminate the cold darkness. And then even that light faded.

Source: Legacy of the Force - Inferno

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Sever Force

Sever Force is a Force Power enabling one to cut another Force user off from the Force.

Caedus appears to cut Ben Skywalker off from the Force during his torture in the Embrace of Pain, and then appears to grant him back use of the Force:

"No—you're making it up." Ben's objection sounded desperate, even to him. It felt like a cold hand had grabbed his heart and started to squeeze. "I would have felt him die—just like I did when you killed Mom."

Jacen shook his head solemnly. "How, Ben? Have you felt anything through the Force since you've been here?" He took his vibrodagger from its sheath and activated it, then tossed it onto the floor about two meters away. "Go on, then. Summon that blade and free yourself."

Ben reached for the vibrodagger . . . and couldn't find it. He opened himself wide, and sensed nothing.

"What's wrong?" he gasped. "I can't . . . feel."

"Of course not," Jacen replied. "How long could the Embrace have held you, had I let you keep the Force?"

"You can do that? You can separate me from the Force?"

Jacen gestured at Ben's helpless form. "Apparently so."

"And now I can't reach out for help," Ben said, beginning to see how Jacen was trying to fool him. "So when you tell me Dad is dead, I can't find him in the Force. I have to take your word for it."

"That's not the reason," Jacen said. "But I can see how you might come to that conclusion."

Jacen laid his hand on Ben's shoulder again, and the Force came flooding back in a shocking, painful torrent.

Source: Legacy of the Force - Inferno

Shatterpoint

Shatterpoint is the ability to perceive fault lines with the Force.

Caedus uses Shatterpoint to completely crumble a Mandalorian's beskar chest piece:

Still, good armor was hardly a match for the speed and power of a Sith Lord. By the time Roegr recovered from the elbow strike and tried to bring his beskad up again, Caedus was already trapping the Mandalorian's sword arm in an elbow lock. Continuing to spin -- and denying Jaina a viable target -- he deactivated his lightsaber and cocked his arm back for a pommel strike.

Then Caedus did a peculiar thing. He paused for an instant, glowering at the Mandalorian's blue armor as though offended by its color. Jaina saw the chance for a difficult oblique shot past Roegr's helmet and swung the QuietSnipe over.

Caedus brought the pommel of his lightsaber down, striking the breastplate not all that hard, not quite in the center . . . and shattering it. The beskar didn't burst apart or send shards flying, or do anything remotely explosive. It just crumbled away from the vacproof underliner, leaving Roegr

Physicals

After being captured by the Yuuzhan Vong on Belkadan, Jacen was kept in the Embrace of Pain for four hours before waking up. He would then try and fail a few times to summon the Force to help ease the pain before a creature came in to implant him with coral growths, damaging his throat and slicing open a small cut on his cheek. Jacen would be saved by his uncle Luke after the creature attached a coral to his cheekbone:

Jacen Solo awoke as a great, wracking cough lifted his body, then left him limp. Burning pain from his shoulders and hips formed a backdrop into which the pain from the cough faded. He opened his eyes and saw a pearlescent floor beneath him. While nowhere near as reflective as a mirror, it did provide him with a distorted image of himself, where he was blobby at some points and pinched at others. Which is pretty much how I feel.

He determined he was hanging from some sort of rack mounted above him in the ceiling. He could feel the restraint bands on his ankles, thighs, and wrists. The wristbands were the worst, since they twisted his arms enough to lock his elbows. His ankles were higher than his shoulders, and his position made it difficult to get a good look at the device to which he'd been fastened.

He'd have been able to see nothing at all, but the sun had begun to rise on Belkadan, turning deep black night into a misty gray morning that mimicked the foggy sensation in his brain. He estimated he'd been in Yuuzhan Vong control for at least four hours.

[...]

Another cough shook him, sharpening the pain that had dulled in his shoulders.

[...]

Jacen reached inside to touch the Force and call it to himself, but the pain in his shoulders and hips nibbled away at his concentration. A third cough didn't help the situation. Jacen did his best to try and let the pain bleed away with Jedi pain-suppression techniques, but as he calmed frayed nerves, the bonds on his wrists tightened. They twisted his arms more, grinding his shoulder sockets, making the pain spike.

Jacen gasped and hung there for a second. A cold chill sent a shudder through him, pulsing more pain from his joints. In response the bonds on his arms eased a bit, but Jacen hardly took comfort in that fact.

[...]

What surprised him was that there seemed no active purpose for keeping him in pain. No one was interrogating him. The pain wasn't sufficient to break him down, just to keep him in a distracted state. While that was preventing him from accessing the Force, somehow he didn't think the Yuuzhan Vong knew enough about the Jedi to realize how useful this would be.

[...]

The creeper came to a stop below his face. The two stout appendages reached up, pincers held wide. Jacen pulled his head back, preventing the pincers from grabbing his ears or cheeks. With the creeper so close, he got a good look at the white stones and knew, without a shadow of a doubt, that they were the seeds of the calcifications he'd seen on the slaves. They plant those in me and I'm done for.

One of the slender appendages swept upward, slapping the delicate frond across Jacen's exposed throat. Lightninglike agony slashed across his neck. He would have screamed, but the pain paralyzed his vocal chords and drained his neck muscles of all feeling and strength. His head bounced down and hung there. Muscles in his face twitched, and a little blood dripped from his mouth from where he'd accidentally bitten the interior of his cheek.

The stout claws caught his earlobes and clamped down tightly. The only good thing about the pain the frond had caused is that he barely noticed the pressure on his ears. With the pain-frond pulled back, one of the slender appendages reached up and pinched the flesh below his right eye, exactly over the curve of his cheekbone. He heard a click and knew the little claws had sliced through his flesh. Blood dripped, splashing scarlet drops over the creeper's pale gray shell.

While one slender stalk opened the wound, the other brought up one of the little bits of gravel and tucked it beneath his flesh. More pinching and the bleeding stopped, but Jacen could feel the foreign body inside of him. He narrowed his right eye and could feel the thing grate against his cheekbone.

Source: The New Jedi Order - Dark Tide I: Onslaught

Jacen sends a Yuuzhan Vong flying with a side kick and appears to knock him out:

Off to the left, Jacen Solo leapt down from one of the plinths, landing on the Yuuzhan Vong warrior below. Jacen's feet hit the warrior square in the back, driving him face first into the ground. The Jedi slammed the butt end of his lightsaber against the base of the warrior's skull, then darted forward to engage the last Yuuzhan Vong. Jacen leapt above a low slash, then side-kicked the warrior in the gut. The Yuuzhan Vong flew back into a plinth, then slid down into a gap between the two of them.

Source: The New Jedi Order - Dark Tide I: Onslaught

While fighting overwhelming Yuuzhan Vong slave troopers on Dantooine, Jacen gets beat up to the point where he is bleeding from his mouth and nose and almost has a swelled shut left eye after being knocked over by proton torpedoes detonating and creating a shockwave. Jacen would then go on to keep fighting the now-crazed Yuuzhan Vong slave troops that advanced too far into the refugee camp:

Then the proton torpedoes detonated. One after another the four missiles slammed into the ground and exploded. Their blasts scattered Yuuzhan Vong warriors and lit the night. They gouged a huge canyon across the Yuuzhan Vong line of advance, and the shock waves were such that the ground rippled even into the refugee compound. Soldiers fell on both sides of the battlefield, and rampart's collapsed.

[...]

Anakin picked himself up off the ground and blinked away the flash of torpedo detonations that had ruined his night vision. He found his lightsaber and brought it to hand, then called out for his brother. "Jacen! Jacen!"

He turned to his left as he heard a reply, then lashed at the crowd of reptoids swarming over his brother. He cut one or two away, then a ripple of Force energy pulsed upward, scattering the others. Some rolled to their feet and struck wildly at him, but Anakin parried their assaults easily and replied with cuts that dropped them.

Bleeding from the nose and mouth, with his left eye slowly swelling shut, Jacen regained his feet. He extended his right hand, drawing his lightsaber to it, and in a second, thumbed the green blade to life. "That thing, that vehicle, must have been a warmaster, a command and control center. The slaves have gone mad."

Source: The New Jedi Order - Dark Tide I: Onslaught

On a mission to Myrkr to find and destroy the queen voxyn, Jacen joined a strike team of sixteen other Jedi whose plan was to pretend to be captured so that they could be delivered through Yuuzhan Vong space without much trouble. After being captured, Jacen went through the Breaking at least once, and could have been one of the Jedi that tried to prolong his own session in order to give Ulaha Kore a longer break. Ulaha had been stabbed in the back by a coufee prior to the breaking, and because of this the Yuuzhan Vong commander Duman Yaght kept putting her through the breaking, only allowing her enough time once he was done to enter a Healing Trance before coming back:

Though everyone except Ganner—who was being held somewhere else in the mistaken belief that he was the group's leader—had faced the breaking at least once, Duman Yaght kept returning to Ulaha, allowing the Bith just enough time to drop into a Jedi healing trance before awakening her to begin again. Poor Ulaha had been to the center of the hold so many times that the others were attempting to prolong their own sessions to buy time for the Bith to recover.

Source: The New Jedi Order - Star by Star

Jacen, like the others in the strike team, was barely clothed and bound in an uncomfortable sitting position:

Like the rest of the strike team, Jaina sat facing a wall of red yorik coral, bent uncomfortably forward with her elbows between her knees, her ankles and wrists fastened to the floor by gummy masses of blorash jelly. She was barely clothed and filthy and in too much pain to care, though she did wish it were not so cold. She was shivering, and shivering made everything hurt more.

[...]

The rest of the strike team sat along the edge of the small hold, partially clothed, filthy, and facing the walls.

[...]

He said something to the guard holding Ulaha, who returned the injured Jedi to her place next to Tekli, laying the Bith on her back instead of the uncomfortable sitting position in which everyone else was bound.

Source: The New Jedi Order - Star by Star

Jacen is kicked twice in the kidney after going through the breaking:

"You are the one in control, Jaina Solo. Who will be next?" He kicked first Anakin in the kidneys, then Jacen. "Your brother, or your twin?"

"They're both my brothers." In Jaina's shock, it registered only vaguely that Duman Yaght now realized her relationship to Jacen. "And I choose neither. I choose me."

Duman Yaght shook his head. "That is not your choice. You must choose Anakin or Jacen." Again, he kicked them, drawing involuntary groans from both.

Source: The New Jedi Order - Star by Star

The Breaking is a form of psychological torture the Yuuzhan Vong employ to break the will of a captive. When the warrior caste performs a breaking, they repeatedly subject their victims to a near-death experience again and again so that they face a horrible demise only to be snatched away at the end each time. The Breaking for this group is especially hard because it was a voxyn as the means of torture:

Although Yuuzhan Vong shapers have advanced means of bending a subject's will, the other castes have their own ways of accomplishing more or less the same task—with slightly different results. The warrior caste repeatedly subjects a victim to a near-death experience, so that, again and again, he faces a horrible demise before he is snatched from the jaws of death. After enough such conditioning, the victim becomes incapable of resisting the Yuuzhan Vong.

Typically, the Yuuzhan Vong warrior caste confronts a victim with a creature bred and trained to aid them in torture. For instance, Miko Reglia faced a yammosk, while one of the Jedi in Anakin Solo's strike force was tormented by a voxyn. Helpless and facing imminent death, the victim is at the mercy of the Yuuzhan Vong—who are the only ones in a position to call off the creature and thus save the victim.

— The New Jedi Order Sourcebook

Aboard the Yuuzhan Vong frigate Exquisite Death, the members of Anakin's strike team endure "the breaking"—a psychological torture technique employed by the Yuuzhan Vong. Miko Reglia, the Jedi Knight killed at Helska 4 at the onset of the Yuuzhan Vong invasion, had endured a similar torture as he was repeatedly subjected to mock sacrifices to the Praetorite Vong's yammosk war coordinator. On Yavin 4, Tahiri Veila had undergone a more sophisticated version of the same treatment. The Yuuzhan Vong take their experiments one step further by tormenting the Jedi with a vicious voxyn, but the Jedi have a defense ready: the battle meld.

— The New Jedi Order Sourcebook

The Myrkr strike team had spent more than thirty hours traveling through the worldship, fending off increasing voxyn attacks and trekking through various environments. The team would be ambushed by Yuuzhan Vong pretending to be slaves in an artificial city, and after losing two members early on in the fight would manage to defeat the initial number of warriors. They would, however, be forced to retreat and run away from the city and towards the feral voxyn area, sprinting the whole way so as to not let the Yuuzhan Vong catch up to them and running at least a thousand steps:

Anakin's anguished body was screaming for a stop, a trance, any kind of escape. But that was not possible, not with Nom Anor and his company coming up the passage. The Yuuzhan Vong were hanging behind now, just far enough so even the Barabels had lost their sound, but Anakin could still feel the enemy through the lambent, a cold aura of anger and malice pressing the strike team onward, always pushing, always threatening.

The Yuuzhan Vong had been back there since the slave city, harrying the Jedi whenever their pace lagged, assailing them with bug attacks and provoking them into firing their weapons. Though the assaults had escalated, Nom Anor had not changed tactics. He was still beleaguering the strike team, still wearing it down, still trying to take a few prizes alive.

[...]

The distant rustle of Yuuzhan Vong feet came up the passage.

[...]

Jaina held his eye for a moment, then the distant rustle of feet grew louder, and they concentrated on running. The strike team passed one of the waist-high tunnels that descended into the warrens of the "feral" voxyn. According to Lomi and Welk, the ferals were creatures the trainers simply lost. Eventually, the beasts found their way to the slave city—the only consistent source of prey in the training maze—and laired in these caves. With an irregular shape, acid-pocked walls, and an overpowering stench of decay, the tunnel certainly seemed like something the creatures might have excavated. Everyone except the Barabels donned their breath masks.

Anakin wore his for perhaps a thousand steps before he pulled it off and discovered that, while the air was fresher, his breath came no easier.

[...]

The strike team slowed, Jaina and several others crowding around even as Anakin protested he was all right.

"Neg that!" Tahiri ordered. "You're not all right—not even close."

The sound of the Yuuzhan Vong feet swelled to tramping. Tekli emerged from somewhere under and between Ganner and Raynar, who were sharing the burden of carrying Eryl's body.

"Keep him levitated!" Jaina ordered. She plucked Tekli off the ground and set the Chadra-Fan astride Anakin's legs, then grabbed his wrist and started up the passage. "Everyone, move!"

Anakin tried to insist that he needed no help, but managed only a gurgle. One of the Barabels dropped a flechette mine to delay the Yuuzhan Vong, and the strike team broke into a hard run.

Source: The New Jedi Order - Star by Star

Note: At this point, the strike team stops to assess Anakin's wounds and set up mines in a tunnel in order to slow the Yuuzhan Vong down. They succeed in causing a small cave-in that slows the Yuuzhan Vong and nearby voxyn, and after running for a short time after decide to enter the voxyn tunnels.

After trekking for several dozens of hours through the worldship Baanu Rass, Jacen would find the voxyn queen and complete the strike team's mission. During the battle, however, Jacen has his breath mask knocked off and he breathes in the toxic fumes of the queen's blood. He has to deal with nausea, his head starting to spin, the feeling of his lungs burning, fighting to stay conscious, being stabbed by one of her claws that rendered an arm almost useless, and then being able to Force Shove the queen after being stabbed with her tail and feeling the burning of her poison:

The voxyn pulled away fast, the shaper less so. Jacen reached out with the Force, this time to soothe the voxyn. Not a chance. With plasma balls bursting and lasers flashing just a few hundred meters away, the queen continued to run. He tried to call her hunting instincts into play. No good either. Where her clones were trained to stalk Jedi, she was trained only to preserve her own life. Jacen pulled one of two thermal detonators from his belt, thumbed the fuse to the first click, and used the Force to hurl it into her path.

The queen whirled away from the silver ball, found her handler in the way, and slapped him aside. Jacen saw an arm fly in one direction and the rest of the shaper tumble in another, then the voxyn was racing toward him, head rising to belch acid. He activated his lightsaber and charged to meet her.

She disgorged her acid at three paces. Jacen launched into an airborne round-off, and the brown spray shot past below. Then the detonator crackled behind him, and he found himself swinging at empty air. He landed lightly and sprang into a half twist that brought him around facing the same direction as before, and his heart rose into his throat. No voxyn, only the brilliant flash of the detonator shrinking in on itself. Blinded, Jacen brought his lightsaber around in a block-and-slash and reached out to locate his quarry.

She was off to the side, moving away slowly. He blinked the dazzle from his eyes and found her crawling out onto the basal-comb, angling away from the battle, angling away from Jacen, her body so broad she had to straddle the wall between the cells. He left his T-21 slung on his shoulder and started after her. He had only a handful of shots remaining, and the bolts would not penetrate her thick scales anyway.

[...]

"Check. You hurry." Jacen reached the basal-comb and had to slow. The walls between cells were a half meter wide, but so steeply crowned that running over them was like running on a board's edge. "Shuttle first."

"Us?" Zekk complained. "You do know the Yuuzhan Vong are chasing you?"

Jacen had no time to look. He was gaining on the queen. "Shuttle first," he repeated. "I have to finish here."

The voxyn stopped at the next cell convergence, where the walls met to form a sort of island, then whirled. Jacen leapt across the dovin basal and landed at her rear flank, tottering and activating his lightsaber. The voxyn screeched, but could not bring her head around far enough to assault Jacen. He danced forward and brought his blade down behind her forward leg.

Internal organs began to slip from the gap, leaking blood into the air and filling it with toxic fumes. Jacen slashed sideways, taking the second leg off at the joint, then thrust deep and brought the blade up. The voxyn pulled away, retreating onto the adjacent wall so she could turn on him. He leapt across to stay behind her—then heard a razor bug droning in his direction.

Jacen dropped into a squat and brought his weapon up to block, and the bug crackled out of existence. The voxyn continued to retreat until she could face him again. Jacen launched himself into a back flip and came down on the cramped convergence behind him, dared to glance away from the queen.

The stolen frigate was already sweeping across the basin toward the crashed shuttle, the forward ramp hanging open for quick boarding. Nom Anor and his warriors were within a hundred meters now, some staring up at the stolen frigate with gaping jaws, others still crawling toward Jacen, but all too distant to have thrown the razor bug.

A shiver of danger sense drew Jacen's attention in the opposite direction. He turned and saw a large Yuuzhan Vong flying at him across the cell.

"No, Jeedai!" The figure extended a single arm.

Jacen swept his lightsaber up and cut the fellow through at the waist and did not even recognize him as the shaper until an eight-fingered hand caught hold of his breath mask and nearly jerked him over. He lowered his head, and the breath mask came off. The Yuuzhan Vong's torso tumbled into the cell beside him, angry eyes glaring up, and barely touched the dovin basal before the creature reacted with its only defense. A tiny gravitic singularity sprang into existence, then the shaper's corpse collapsed in on itself and disappeared in a flash of dancing color.

The acrid smell of toxic blood reminded Jacen of the peril he faced without a breath mask. He looked up to find the queen staring at him from two meters away, eyes expressionless and black, the Force heavy with her grim resolve. The creature knew why he was here. She was not angry, not hateful—only determined to save herself. Jacen did not want to kill her—he had never wanted to kill any animal. Perhaps she sensed that in him.

Jacen's head started to spin. He had to finish this. Flicking his lightsaber to hold the creature's attention, he dropped his free hand toward his last thermal detonator. The queen came bounding. He pulled the detonator off his harness. She stretched forward to snap at his head, then surprised him with a claw to the shoulder.

The talons bit deep, launched him off his perch. The detonator flew, inactivated, from his hand, and the dovin basal appeared beneath him, rising fast. He whipped his legs over his head, flinging himself to the opposite side of the cell. Landing dizzy and off balance, Jacen continued in the same direction, this time flipping higher to buy more time.

He came down on his heels, vision closing, nostrils burning. He fell backward onto a convergence. His shoulder was throbbing already, but at least it still supported the weight of an arm.

A trio of coralskippers streaked past overhead, their noses pouring plasma balls toward the center of the basin. Coughing, fighting to stay conscious, Jacen sat up and saw the stolen frigate lumbering skyward beneath the bombardment.

[...]

Jacen activated his comlink, but was interrupted by a familiar burping sound. He rolled over his good shoulder and came unsteadily to his feet. A fan of brown mucus landed where he had been lying, then the voxyn began to advance. The acrid stench of her blood staggered him, made his lungs burn and his head spin, and nearly sent him tumbling down onto a dovin basal.

The queen reached the convergence and stopped. They were separated now by a sizzling pool of her acid. Jacen brought his lightsaber to middle guard, tip angled forward, his wounded arm hanging limp. Behind the voxyn, the hundred-meter bulk of a yorik coral corvette swept in and cut him off from the rest of the strike team. They were battling now, his friends and a whole flotilla of arriving Yuuzhan Vong.

A wave of nausea dropped Jacen to a knee. Eager to press the advantage, the voxyn gathered herself to spring.

A thermal detonator splashed into the pool of acid. The fuse had not been activated, but that was all Jacen saw before the silver casing sank into the sludge.

"Could that be important?" Vergere called. She was coming toward him, thin arms extended for balance. "I saw you drop it."

Jacen's jaw fell. "How did you—"

"No time."

Vergere pointed. The voxyn was scrambling along the edge of the convergence, fleeing the silver sphere. The detonator could never ignite without a properly set fuse, but what did the queen know about detonators? All spheres of shiny silver were spheres to be feared.

Jacen sprang feet-first, caught the queen dead center, heels driving high into her ribs, forcing her over the edge. She dug her claws deep into the yorik coral and saved herself. Jacen landed beside her, hard, and the breath left his burning lungs. The darkness began to rise inside him.

No, tried to rise. He stabbed his lightsaber into the yorik coral and began to cut it from beneath the queen's claws. Still intent on escaping the detonator, she released her front leg and reached for the adjacent wall, then her support began to crumble, and her front quarters slipped into the cell. She brought her tail around, the poisonous barb driving for Jacen's neck. He ducked behind his wounded shoulder, took the tip in an open gash, felt venom pulsing into his torn flesh. Hot. Stinging.

Too weak to kick, Jacen pushed with the Force. Another leg came free. The queen, also weakened by injury, slipped deeper. A foot grazed the dovin basal, then she was plummeting over the edge, collapsing in on herself, shrinking out of sight.

Jacen did not see the final flash of color. The barb tore free of his shoulder, and he was overwhelmed by dizziness, collapsing backward onto the convergence.

Source: The New Jedi Order - Star by Star

Jacen underwent the most hideous tortures after being captured by the Yuuzhan Vong:

It was the mission to Myrkr that was to be the real turning point in Jacen's relationship with the Force. With his brother, Anakin, dead and Jacen captured by the Vong, he was forced to undergo the most hideous tortures, all arranged by that enigmatic creature, Vergere.

— The Official Star Wars Fact File 118

Jacen is captured after the mission on the worldship above Myrkr and is then placed in the Embrace of Pain. He spent so much time in the Embrace that he forgets everything but the "white", which is agony and pain, to the point that he doesn't remember anything before it:

Jacen Solo hangs in the white, exploring the spectrum of pain.

In the far infrared, he finds cinders of thirst that bake his throat. Higher, up in the visible wavelengths, gleam the crimson wire-stretched ligaments that sizzle within his shoulders; grinding glass-shard screams howl from his hip joints like the death shrieks of golden Ithorian starflowers. There is green here, too—bubbling tongues of acid hungrily lick his nerves—as well as lightning-blue shocks that spasm his overload body into convulsion.

And higher still, now far beyond the ultraviolet betrayal that brought him here—the betrayal that delivered him into the hands of the Yuuzhan Vong, the betrayal that gathered him into the Embrace of Pain, the betrayal by Vergere, whom he had trusted—he finds silent shattering gamma-ray bursts sleeting into his brain.

[...]

He cannot remember if he is on a ship, or still planet-bound. He finds a vague memory of capture aboard a Yuuzhan Vong worldship, but he's not sure if that happened to him, or to someone else. He cannot remember if such distinctions mean anything. All he knows is the white.

[...]

Jacen knows—intellectually, distantly, abstractly—that once he lived outside the white. He knows that he once felt happiness, pleasure, regret, anger, even love. But these are only ghosts, shadows murmuring beneath the roar of pain that fills everything he is, everything he will ever be; the simple fact that the white had a beginning does not imply that it will have an end. Jacen exists beyond time.

Where Jacen is, there is only the white, and the Force.

[...]

Jacen has become a prism, reintegrating the glittering spectrum of pain into pure blazing agony.

Agony is white.

Snow-blind in an eternal Hoth ice-noon of suffering, Jacen Solo hangs in the Embrace of Pain.

Source: The New Jedi Order - Traitor

As a reminder, the Embrace of Pain is a torture rack that suspends you upside down and keeps you in a constant state of pain and agony, loosening its slacks if it senses too much pain and tightening them when it senses not enough:

Jacen hung horizontally, suspended facedown two meters above a floor of wet, slick-looking greens and browns—its surface corded, viny, as though with muscle and vein. The walls oozed oily dampness that smelled darkly organic: bantha sweat and hawk-bat droppings. From the darkness above swung tentacles like prehensile eyestalks, ends socketed with glowing orbs that stared at him as the tentacles wove and danced and twisted about each other.

He understood: the enemy was watching.

Something that felt like claws, sharp and unyielding, gripped his skull from behind; he could not turn his head to see what held him. His arms were drawn wide, pulled to full extension and twisted so that his shoulders howled in their sockets. A single strong grip crushed his ankles together, grinding bone on bone—

Yet the greatest pain he now suffered was to look on Vergere and remember that he had trusted her.

[...]

Jacen understood nothing except how much he hurt, and how terribly he had been betrayed. "I—" Speaking tore his throat as though he coughed splinters of transparisteel. He winced, squeezing shut his eyes until galaxies flared within them, then gritted his teeth and spoke anyway.

[...]

"You're saying . . . " Jacen licked his lips, his tongue so dry it scraped them raw.

Source: The New Jedi Order - Traitor

Vergere then severs Jacen's connection to the Force, meaning he spends the rest of his time in Yuuzhan Vong imprisonment without the aid of the Force:

But not everything he knew was gone, not while he lived. He was a Jedi. He reached out with his feelings—

"Oh, the Force," Vergere chirped dismissively. "The Force is life; what has life to do with you?"

Suffering and exhaustion had bled away Jacen's capacity for astonishment; he did not care how Vergere knew what he was doing. He opened himself to the Force, let its clean cascade wash through him, dissolving his pain and confusion—and found at his side a connection to the Force as profound as his own.

Vergere crackled with power.

Jacen murmured, "You're a Jedi . . . "

Vergere laughed. "There are no Jedi here," she said, and made a gesture, eyeflick-swift.

Inside Jacen's head, a swirl of interstellar gases fell in upon itself, kindling a protostar behind his eyes. The protostar swelled, gathering power, ramping up intensity until the light inside his skull washed away the woody glow of the chamber in which he hung. In the whited-out blaze, he heard Vergere's voice, cold and precise as the light of a distant quasar.

"I am your guide through the lands of the dead."

Beyond that, he heard and saw no more.

A silent supernova erupted within Jacen's brain, and blasted away the universe.

—

Seconds or centuries passed in oblivion.

Consciousness swam back into him, and he opened his eyes to find himself still hanging in the Embrace of Pain, Vergere still standing below him, on her face the same alien facsimile of cheerful mockery.

Nothing had changed.

Everything had changed.

The universe was empty, now.

"What? . . . " Jacen croaked, his throat raw as though he'd spent days screaming in his sleep. "What have you done to me? . . . "

"You have no business with the Force, nor it with you. Let you have the Force? The idea! It must be some kind of human thing—you mammals are so impulsive, so reckless: infants teething on a blaster. No, no, no, little Solo. The Force is much too dangerous for children. A great deal more dangerous than those ridiculous lightsabers you all seem to like to wave about. So I took it away from you."

The emptiness of the universe howled inside his head.

There was nothing out there.

Only vast interstellar vacuum.

All his training, all his talent, his gift, meant nothing to the limitlessly indifferent cosmos; the Force was only the ghost of a dream from which he had now awakened.

Jaina— He thrust desperately into the bond that had always been there, seeking his sister, his twin; he poured his terror and loss into the void that yawned where that bond had always been.

Only silence. Only emptiness. Only lack.

Oh, Jaina—Jaina, I'm sorry . . .

With the Force-bond between them shattered, even Jaina would think he was dead.

Would know he was dead.

"You—there's no way—you can't possibly—" He barely recognized this tiny, lost-in-the-dark whisper as his own voice.

"But I have. Really, this Force business, you're better off without it. If you're a good boy, I'll give it back when you grow up."

[...]

The walls and ceiling creaked like an old man's joints as the grip of the Embrace of Pain tightened again. Jacen Solo was once more swallowed by agony.

—

Now there is no more Force for Jacen—no more cool breath of life and sanity, no more Jaina, no more life.

Where Jacen is, there is only the white.

Source: The New Jedi Order - Traitor

Jacen spends time in the Embrace of Pain while cut off from the Force, with the pain being described as building up to reach a crest, then dropping only to allow Jacen to catch his breath. He even had all of the hair on his body shaved off during this time:

Jacen Solo hangs in the white, thinking.

He has begun to riddle out the lesson of pain.

The white drops him in once in a while, as though the Embrace of Pain understands him somehow: as though it can read the limit of his strength. When another minute in the white might kill him, the Embrace of Pain eases enough to slide him back into the reality of the room, of the ship; when the pain has crackled so hot for so long that his overloaded nerves and brain have been scorched too numb to feel it, the Embrace of Pain lowers him entirely to the floor, where he can even sleep for a time, while other devices—or creatures, since he cannot tell the difference anymore, since he is no longer sure that there is any difference—bathe him and tend wounds scraped or torn or slashed into his flesh by the Embrace's grip, and still more creature-devices crawl over him like spider-roaches, injecting him with nutrients and enough water to maintain his life.

Even without the Force, his Jedi training gives him ways to survive the pain; he can drive his mind through a meditative cycle that builds a wall of discipline between his consciousness and the white. Though his body still suffers, he can hold his mind outside the pain. But this wall of discipline doesn't last forever, and the Embrace of Pain is patient.

It erodes his mental walls with the inanimate persistence of waves against a cliff; the Embrace's arcane perception somehow lets it know that he has defended himself, and its efforts slowly gather like a storm spinning up into a hurricane until it batters down his walls and slashes once more into everything Jacen is. Only then, only after it has pushed him to the uttermost limit of his tolerance then blasted him beyond that that limit into whole new galaxies of pain, will the Embrace slowly relent.

He feels as if the white is eating him—as if the Embrace eats his pain, but never so much that he can't recover to feed it again. He is being managed, tended like wander-kelp on a Chadian deepwater ranch. His existence has become a tidal rhythm of agony that sweeps in, reaches an infinite crest, then rolls out again just far enough that he might catch his breath; the Embrace is careful not to let him drown.

[...]

But mostly he sits, or lies, waiting. Naked, blood seeping from his wrists and ankles. More than naked: utterly hairless. The living machines that tend to his body also pluck out his hairs. All of them: head, arms, legs, pubis, armpits. Eyebrows. Eyelashes.

Source: The New Jedi Order - Traitor

After an unspecified amount of time enduring the Embrace of Pain, Jacen starts to learn from the pain and make pain work for him, which is the lesson Vergere wanted him to learn:

Jacen Solo hangs in the white, thinking.

For an infinite instant, he is merely amazed that he can think; the white has scoured his consciousness for days, or weeks, or centuries, and he is astonished now to discover that he can not only think, but think clearly.

He spends a white eon marveling.

Then he goes to work on the lesson of pain.

This is it, he thinks. This is what Vergere was talking about. This is the help she gave me, that I didn't kow how to accept.

She has freed him from his own trap: the trap of childhood. The trap of waiting for someone else. Waiting for Dad, or Mother, Uncle Luke, Jaina, Zekk, or Lowie or Tenel Ka or any of the others whom he could always count on to fly to his rescue.

He is not helpless. He is only alone.

It's not the same thing.

He doesn't have to simply hang here and suffer. He can do something.

[...]

To live is to be a slave to pain.

But that is only half true; pain can also be a teacher.

[...]

Sometimes pain is the only bridge to where you want to go.

[...]

Pain can be a power, too, Jacen realizes. Power to change things for the better. That's how change happens: someone hurts, and sooner or later decides to do something about it.

Suffering is the fuel in the engine of civilization.

Now he begins to understand: because pain is a god—he has been in the grip of this cruel god ever since Anakin's death. But it is also a teacher, and a bridge. It can be a slave master, and break you—and it can be the power that makes you unbreakable. It is all these things, and more.

At the same time.

What it is depends on who you are.

But who am I? he wonders. I've been running like Dad—like Anakin. I think they stopped, though; I think Dad was strong enough to turn back and face it, to use the pain to make himself stronger, like Mom and Uncle Luke. Anakin did, too, at the end. Am I that strong?

There's only one way to find out.

For indefinite days, weeks, centuries, the white has been eating him.

Now, he begins to eat the white.

Source: The New Jedi Order - Traitor

Nom Anor tells Tsavong Lah that Jacen has now found a way to not only accept torment, but to thrive on it, and do so in a way that they've only seen in the greatest of Yuuzhan Vong warriors:

The moment he'd been waiting for came during the drone's exhaustive point-by-point cross-species interpolation between Jacen Solo's readings and those of three different control subjects, all Yuuzhan Vong: one warrior caste, one priest caste, and one shaper caste, each of whom had earlier undergone excruciation by the very same Embrace of Pain in which the young Jedi now hung.

[...]

Nom Anor shrugged and smiled amiably: gestures he had learned from his impersonations of the human species. He exchanged one quick glance with the other occupant of the chamber—his partner in the Solo Project—then directed his gaze back to the villip. "The import of the Embrace chamber's data is exactly this: Jacen Solo has become capable of not only accepting torment, but thriving on it. As the warmaster will recall, I predicted such a result. He has discovered resources within himself of the sort that we find only in our greatest warriors."

Source: The New Jedi Order - Traitor

Jacen was difficult to break:

Anor intended to twist Jacen Solo into the instrument of Jaina Solo's destruction, fulfilling an ancient Yuuzhan Vong prophecy when one twin sacrificed the other. Jacen proved difficult to break, however.

Source: Star Wars Databank (Old)

Jacen doesn't grimace when his shoulder and hip joints grated putting on a robe:

He forced himself to his feet and slipped the robe over his head. The robe was warm to the touch; it writhed gently as he struggled into it, fibers bunching and unbunching like sleepy worms. Putting it on hurt. Slower to heal than his skin, his shoulders and hip joints grated as though packed with chunks of duracrete, but he didn't so much as grimace.

This was merely pain; he barely noticed.

Source: The New Jedi Order - Traitor

Jacen had a slave seed implanted in his chest by Vergere after he had ended his time in the Embrace of Pain and just before his time in the Nursery. She sliced into his chest with a thin Yuuzhan Vong bladed-creature, puncturing his diaphragm, nicking his lung, and then scratching the inside of his sternum. The creature had left only a finger sized hole in his chest, but when the seed activated, it triggered a "star flare" in his chest that slapped him akin to a club and left him curled up on the ground in pain:

Looking at Vergere, he could feel it happen once more: the bone hook slicing in below his ribs, curving up to puncture his diaphragm. Its point had nicked his lung, then scratched against the inside of his sternum: an icy shuddering nonpain that punched a hole through his strength. He had sagged in the warriors' grips.

Vergere had withdrawn the hook slowly; it skidded through clamped muscle. She examined him at some length, her crest shimmering an iridescent, unreadable rainbow. "Do you feel it yet?"

Jacen had stared down at the sluggish trail of blood that leaked from the hole below his ribs. The hole had been no bigger than the end of his little finger; he'd felt an absurd desire to stick his finger in the hole like the stopper in a bottle of Corellian whiskey.

Only then had Vergere told him what that hook of bone had done: implanted a slave coral seed inside his chest. "Well done," she had said to the weapon cheerfully. "Go, enjoy yourself." The hook had relaxed, coiling around her wrist for a moment like a hug from an affectionate snake, then unwrapped itself and dropped to the ground, slithering away into the underbrush.

"I know you've been implanted before," she had told him. "On Belkadan, yes? That seed, though, grew too slowly and was removed too easily. So I've made your new, improved one less . . . mm, less accessible."

And the agony that had blossomed over his heart—

The slave seed had sprouted in seconds, filaments wriggling like screwworms into his celiac plexus. It said hello by secreting algesic enzymes, triggering a star flare in his chest that slapped him off his feet like a blow from a club. He lay on the knotted hump of vein flesh, curled around his pain.

Vergere and the warriors had left him there. No instructions or orders were necessary; the slave seed—with an efficiency Jacen had come to think of as typically Yuuzhan Vong—had let him know what was required of him, simply and directly.

It had hurt him.

[...]

The injection wound left by Vergere's weapon had gone bad: red and inflamed and crusted with yellow ooze. Jacen pressed his palm against the stiff robeskin-bandage over it.

Source: The New Jedi Order - Traitor

The slave seed telepathically linked him to a dhuryam. Whenever he would do something against the dhuryam's wishes, the slave seed would set his nerves on fire until he listened to it:

The slave seed was linked telepathically to one of the dhuryams. Whenever Jacen wasn't doing what the dhuryam wanted, the slave seed set his nerves on fire. The only way to escape pain was to discover the dhuryam's desire: he'd try one thing after another until he found an activity that did not hurt.

Often it took a while to figure out. Sometimes a long while.

Here in the Nursery, the sun was extinguished for about a third of each day; instead of moons for light during the artificial night, the Nursery had an abundance of phosphorescent mosses and algae. He could count days now, if he wished, but he didn't bother. He could chart the passage of time by the spread of slave seed filaments webbing his nerves.

He could feel it growing.

As it grew, its control refined; through the increasingly sophisticated slave seed-web, the dhuryam could tell him to go forward by hurting his back. It could tell him to pick something up by hurting his empty hand. At need, it could spike his nerves so sharply that involuntary spasms would jerk an arm or a leg in the appropriate direction.

Source: The New Jedi Order - Traitor

Vergere describes the pain from a slave seed as "the worst pain [Jacen's] nervous system could suffer":

"Here, now, at the crisis point, at the Day of Decision, Jacen Solo does not stand with the others of his kind. Despite the worst pain his nervous system can suffer, he has chosen to stand among the life-forms of an alien galaxy."

Source: The New Jedi Order - Traitor

Jacen spent at least a few weeks and possibly months living in the Nursery, a playground for several dhuryams that allowed them to learn the skills they would need in order to become the World Brain and Vongform a planet for the Yuuzhan Vong:

She was closer now, weaving through the fungal colony mounds of young oogliths. He hadn't seen her since his first day in the Nursery. That had been, by his best estimate, weeks ago.

Possibly months.

Source: The New Jedi Order - Traitor

The Nursery is described as this, containing several Yuuzhan Vong shapers, smelling terribly, and being a bog and swampy environment:

He stood in a world turned inside out.

The tunnel at his back made a knotted hump like a varicose vein across the crest of the hill. From up here, Jacen had a clear vantage over a boil of swamp and jungle all the way to the horizon.

But there was no horizon.

Through storm-swirls of stinking fog, and endless bowl of scum-stained pools and fetid belching quagmires rose higher and higher and higher until he had to squint against the actinic blue-white pinprick that was this place's sun. Then a rift parted the fog above, and he could see beyond the sun: other swamps and jungles and ridges of low hills sealed shut the sky. Blurred in the regathering mist, it seemed that vast creatures roamed those hills in disorganized herds—but then the mist thinned again, and the scene snapped into perspective.

Those creatures weren't huge; they were human.

Not just human, but also Mon Calamari, and Bothan, and Twi'lek, and dozens of other species of the New Republic.

Those hills overhead were only a klick away, maybe a klick and a half. The "sun" must have been some kind of artificial fusion source, probably not much bigger than Jacen's fist. He nodded to himself; with the fine gravity control wielded by dovin basals, it wouldn't be much of a trick to contain a fusion furnace.

[...]

Now he could pick out Yuuzhan Vong among the groups: some warriors—not many—but hundreds and hundreds of what he guessed must be shapers, moving in slow and purposeful paths, taking soil and water samples, collecting leaves and strips of bark, stems, and handfuls of algae, paying no attention at all to what he'd originally taken for herds.

Those herds—

If he'd still had the Force, he would have felt the truth instantly.

Those are the slave gangs.

"Magnificent, isn't it?" Vergere said from beside him.

Jacen shook his head. "Madness," he answered. "I mean, look at this—"

He swung a hand toward a nearby bog. Along its bank, a crew dug savagely with crude shovels, howling as they threw muck and vegetation and dirt in all directions, trying to excavate what would probably have been some kind of drainage ditch, while another howling gang worked just as savagely to fill the ditch in once more. A little farther away, a knot of shouting, swearing people stuck grain cuttings into the mud, while a handful of others followed behind, moaning through streams of anguished tears while they stamped the cuttings flat. the sphere was filled with similar useless struggle: stone cairns being simultaneously built up and torn down, fields being packed flat with rolled stone while still being plowed, saplings being planted and chopped down, all by half-naked slaves staggering with exhaustion, some cursing, some sobbing, the rest only bellowing and shrieking wordless animal pain.

Even where there was no struggle, the slaves lurched from task to task as though pursued by invisible clouds of stinging insects; a man digging a hole might suddenly spasm as if he'd touched an open power bus, then clamber out to half build a dike, then jerk again and stumble away to uproot marsh grass by the handful and scatter it randomly to the wind.

"This, this is insanity . . . " Jacen hugged himself, swallowing hard, his breath shallow against a retch that twisted his guts. "How can you call this magnificent?"

Source: The New Jedi Order - Traitor

Jacen allows several clip beetles to attack and latch onto his arm so that he could use them to help seal another slave's wound, but doesn't acknowledge the pain or worry about it:

He teased open the mouth of a bulging sacworm that lay on the ground beside him, and stuck his hand inside. The clip beetles that filled the sacworm's belly attacked his hand savagely; Jacen waited until twenty or thirty had clamped their mandibles into his skin, then pulled his hand out and let the sacworm's mouth snap closed once more. The clip beetles bristled like a knobbed insectile glove. He used his beetle-gloved hand to pinch the slave's belly wound together.

Source: The New Jedi Order - Traitor

When visited by Vergere, Jacen has his chest wound stabbed by her finger but doesn't react to the pain despite it blazing in his side. She also notices that he has a pretty bad fever that he had been able to ignore:

She cocked her head quizzically, smiling sideways up at him. She gathered her four opposable fingers into a point and jabbed firmly, accurately, through the robeskin onto his infected wound.

Pain blazed in his side. Jacen didn't even blink.

"I told you," he said evenly. "It's all right."

She pointed to the ground, to the crushed layers of moss where the slave had lain while Jacen had beetled his wound. "Lie down."

Jacen didn't move.

"Jacen Solo," she said patiently, "you know the Force is with me. Do you think I cannot feel your infection? Am I so blind that I cannot see your fever boiling in your eyes? Am I so weak that I cannot knock you down?"

Source: The New Jedi Order - Traitor

Vergere then goes to heal the inflamed wound in Jacen's chest and scrapes off the infected crust, which doesn't faze Jacen. She then realizes that he does not let pain rule him, as he tells her that he doesn't let it affect him after the Embrace of Pain:

Vergere seized his robeskin with both hands, then lowered her face to nip a hole in it with her small sharp dental ridges. She tore the hole wide, then stripped off the bandage beneath. Folding the bandage upon itself, she roughly scrubbed away the infected crust over the wound. Jacen watched her expressionlessly, not reacting to the coarse scrape across his inflamed ribs.

She noted his regard, and winked at him. "Pain means little to you now, yes?"

"Since the Embrace?" Jacen shrugged. "I don't ignore it, if that's what you mean."

"But it does not rule you," she said approvingly. "There are some who say that humans are incapable of overcoming their fear of pain."

"Maybe the people who say that don't know very many humans."

"And maybe they do. Maybe they simply know none like you."

Source: The New Jedi Order - Traitor

Jacen spent at least a few days being injured and tormented by the dhuryam for disobeying it to the point of making his limbs jerk and spasm in order to force him to move and obey. At this point, however, Jacen has stopped letting pain control him and the dhuryam realizes that it takes up too much of its energy and time to try and coerce Jacen with pain because this allows other parts of its playground to suffer due to the dhuryam ignoring other slaves in the area:

"How is it," she asked slowly, "that you have come to be the medical droid for your slave gang? Of all the jobs that all the slaves do, how did this one fall to you?"

"There's no one else who can do it."

"No one who can set a bone? No one who can wash clean a cut? No one who can twist the head off a clip beetle?"

Jacen shrugged. "No one who can tell the dhuryam to blow itself out an air lock."

"Ah." That translucent inner lid slid down her eye. "The dhuryam disapproves?"

"Let's say it took some convincing."

"Convincing?"

"Yeah."

She said nothing for a long time. She might have been waiting for him to elaborate; she might have been trying to guess what he had done. She might have been thinking of something else altogether. "And how did you manage to convince it?"

Jacen stared through her, remembering his savage private struggle against the slave seed and the dhuryam that controlled it, day after day of bitter agony. He wondered how much of that story she might know already; he was certain that she had some way of keeping him under observation.

The dhuryam was an intelligent creature; it had not taken long to discover that Jacen could not be moved by pain. But the dhuryam was itself stubborn by nature, and it had been specifically engineered to command. It was not accustomed to disobedience, nor inclined to tolerate it.

After days of straight, simple pain, the dhuryam had taken advantage of the slave seed's growth; it had spent more than a week jerking Jacen's limbs individually by remote control, using the slave seed to give him spasms and cramps that forced him to move, making him twitch and thrash like a holomonster controlled by a half-melted logic board.

The turning point had come when the dhuryam realized that it had been pouring so much energy and attention into its struggle with Jacen that it was neglecting its other slaves. Its domain in the Nursery was falling to ruin, becoming a wasteland among the lush domains of its sibling-rivals. It understood that breaking Jacen was an expensive undertaking: a project whose costs were counted in jobs that did not get done. And it soon began to discover that Jacen could be useful, even unbroken.

Jacen had taken every respite from the pain to minister to his fellow slaves. He didn't have real medical training, but his exotic life-form collection had taught him some basics of exobiology, and in his adventures with the other young Jedi he had garnered a working knowledge of field surgery.

The dhuryam had eventually seemed to understand that healthy slaves can work harder, and soon its domain began to improve again. Jacen had discovered that the dhuryam would let him do pretty much whatever he wanted, so long as it advanced the dhuryam's own interests.

I guess you could say, Jacen thought, I taught the dhuryam that sometimes partners are more useful than slaves.

Source: The New Jedi Order - Traitor

After connecting with the dhuryam on a higher level, Jacen spent nearly a whole day feeling "unendurable pain" from the dhuryam as it tried to stop him from helping other slaves with their injuries. Despite all of the pain the dhuryam inflicted on him, Jacen would never have changed his mind:

At first, his own dhuryam had tried to stop Jacen from treating slaves who belonged to its sibling-rivals; for nearly a day, Jacen and the dhuryam had gone back to their war of unendurable pain against unbreakable will. Through it all, Jacen had kept hearing Vergere's voice echo inside his head.

Which are flowers? Which are weeds? she had said. The choice is yours.

He had chosen.

No agony at any dhuryam's command could unmake his choice.

There are no weeds here.

Every slave was a flower. Every life was precious. He would spend the last erg of his strength to save every one of them.

There are no weeds here.

Source: The New Jedi Order - Traitor

On the Day of Comprehending the Will of the Gods, three creatures were brought into the Nursery to interfere and cancel out the telepathic connection between the dhuryams and their slaves to prevent any sort of sabotage between them. This cuts off the link between the dhuryams and the slave seeds, which causes immense pain that can only be stopped by physical contact with the slave seed's parent coraltree basal that the seed was taken from. The pain was so bad that it even drove sick and wounded slaves to drag themselves over rocks and through swamps to escape the pain, but Jacen was able to endure this without difficulty and stay in the middle of the amphistaff grove:

These slave seeds are designed with a fail-safe: when telepathic contact with a dhuryam is severed, each slave seed automatically immobilizes its slave by driving him mercilessly toward its parent, the coraltree basal from which slave coral was harvested. Shrieking sudden inexplicable agony, the slaves scrambled for each domain's coraltree basal. Only actual physical contact with the coraltree basal could quiet a slave's pain; even the sick and wounded had dragged themselves over rocks and through swamps, howling. This organized the slaves into neat little clusters, keeping them safely out of the way until they could be most conveniently disposed of.

[...]

Nom Anor glared at the image in the viewspider's sac of optical jelly. "Why doesn't he do something?"

Vergere shrugged liquidly, and leaned to one side to get a better look through the viewspider's thicket of legs. "He is doing something. Just not what you expected."

"He knows, doesn't he? He knows the slaves are to be killed."

"He knows."

The image in the optical jelly was barely more than a shadow in a twilit mist. The shreeyam'tiz blocked the viewspider's image links along with the dhuryams' control; to maintain its view of Jacen Solo, it was forced to generate a shadow shape using the infrared-sensitive eyespots of the sessile polyps in the amphistaff grove.

"He just stands there," Nom Anor growled. He shifted his weight, glowering at the image. "How can he simply stand? The agony—!"

"Agony, yes. Suffering? Perhaps. He has learned much."

Source: The New Jedi Order - Traitor

.

Jacen stands in the amphistaff grove, watching.

The slave seed shrieks flame through every nerve in his body: sizzling commands for him to run, to scramble and sprint for the coraltree basal only thirty meters away. He burns in this fire, but is not consumed.

The fire is an alembic that has distilled everything he is, has ever been, ever will be, into one eternal instant; like the white before it, the fire has washed away time.

All of Jacen's time has become one single now, and the fire inside him feeds his strength.

Source: The New Jedi Order - Traitor

Jacen endures damage from being near two instances of several thud bug detonations during his start of the slave revolt in the Nursery:

Thud bugs hum through the air around him, but the eyespots of the amphistaffs wrapped Jacen's body are infrared—and motion-sensitive; he is able to integrate their emphatic reactions into a full-surround field of perception that is not dissimilar to the Force itself—and he has trained for years to avoid weapons that he can only barely perceive. The greensward blossoms with scarlet detonations as he dodges, dives and rolls, comes to his feet, and keeps running.

Dozens more thud bugs curve toward him, homing like concussion missiles as he sprints straight at the oncoming squads of heavily armed warriors. The nearest warrior thrusts his amphistaff at Jacen like a force pike. Jacen dives beneath its point, rolling forward on his shoulder, stabbing upward; his blade enters the warrior's body at the joining of pelvis and thigh. The pursuing thud bugs detonate massively, scattering warriors like toy soldiers swiped away by the invisible hand of a giant child as Jacen's momentum completes the roll, bringing him to one knee and driving the blade upward through the warrior's groin and entrails and chest.

Only energy fields like its own can withstand the amphistaff's edge; the shells of vonduun crabs are intricately structured crystal, reinforced by a field generated by power glands very similar to those of the amphistaff itself. But that field protects only the shell; beneath their shells, vonduun crabs are soft, and when Jacen's blade slices through the crab's field-nerve cable from the inside, the armor might as well be made of bantha butter.

A multiple blast bug detonation slaps the warrior forward, and Jacen's blade shears through spine and armor alike to burst from the warrior's back in a fountain of gore—and slices as well through the warrior's blast bug bandolier. As Jacen rolls backward with the concussion and kicks free of the shuddering corpse, he grabs the severed bandolier. An instant later, he is up again, running, staggering, stumbling, deafened and half stunned by the explosions. Behind him, the warrior squads scramble and regroup. Jacen ignores them.

All his attention, all his concentration, all his will, is focused on the blast bug bandolier in his hand.

The bandolier is bleeding from its severed ends; dying, its sole wish is to release its children—the blast bugs locked in its linked belt of hexagonal germination chambers—so that they might fulfill their explosive destiny. Jacen can keenly feel its desire. In the emotional language of his emphatic talent, he promises the ultimate satisfaction of this desire, if the bandolier will only wait for his signal.

Ahead, the remaining two squads draw themselves into a tight wedge, its point toward Jacen, its broad base covering the bacta-tank-sized tub that holds the shreeyam'tiz. As more blast bugs hum toward him from all directions, Jacen heaves the bandolier overhand like a proton grenade; it twists lazily, high through the stark noon.

With his emphatic talent, he projects a pulse-hammer thrill of anticipation teetering over the brink to fulfillment, a shuddering surge of adrenaline that would roughly translate as—

Now!

The bandolier flares into a starshell over the base of the wedge at the same time as the blast bugs targeted on Jacen arrive in a thundering swarm, striking him and the ground and the warriors nearby indiscriminately, concussion bursts battering them all helplessly this way and that, ending with Jacen finally blown off his feet into a high spinning arc through the air.

As the inside-out world wheels around him in a darkening blood-tinged whirl, Jacen has time to feel the agony from his slave seed-web suddenly ease and to push an exhausted emphatic invitation down through the slave seed. All right, my friend. Now it's your turn.

The blood-tinged darkness swallows him before he hits the ground.

Source: The New Jedi Order - Traitor

Jacen then gets up "bleeding from a dozen wounds" a few minutes later and is able to walk without any assistance:

Instead, they fanned out in teams of five. One team clustered around Jacen Solo, and waited while he dragged himself brokenly to his feet. Bleeding from a dozen wounds, he swayed as though faint or dizzy, then moved toward the lake with the five slaves around him.

Source: The New Jedi Order - Traitor

Jacen then slogged through chest-high water while still fighting off other slaves with a deep head wound that bled into his eyes:

"Diversion? To accomplish what?" Then his good eye bulged wide—in the viewspider's image sac he saw Jacen and the five slaves who accompanied him wade into the chest-deep murk of the hive-lake, hacking their way through the churning, struggling, bleeding tangle of slaves and warriors. One of Jacen's companions fell, speared through the throat by a warrior's amphistaff; another was dragged under the water by the clawing hands of unarmed slaves. The three remaining swung their spade rays wildly, trying not only to keep warriors and slaves at bay but also to splash a path through the flames that floated on the surface of the lake.

Jacen slogged grimly on, half swimming, without a glance at the slaves who defended him. Any warrior or attacking slave in his path fell to lightning slashes and stabs of the amphistaffs he wielded in both hands. He didn't even bother to wipe from his eyes the blood that flowed from a deep scalp wound.

All he did was walk, and kill.

Source: The New Jedi Order - Traitor

Jacen fought through several warriors and crazed shapers to get to one of the dhuryams, and he almost succumbed to his various injuries right before he killed it. Those injuries, from the bandolier of thud bugs to getting attacked off-screen during his fighting, included broken ribs, a deep slash in his thigh, and him being so dazed his eyes couldn't focus:

He swayed, suddenly dizzy, suddenly aware how badly wounded he was—aware of the blood that poured down his face, aware of broken ribs stabbing every breath, aware of numb weakness spreading down his thigh from a slash he could not remember taking, aware that the concussion he'd suffered from the blast bugs had left his eyes unable to properly focus. He had fought his way to the island in something like the battle frenzy of a Yuuzhan Vong warrior, where pain and injury were as irrelevant as the color of the sky; he had taken lives of warriors and crazed shapers, perhaps of the very slaves he was fighting to save—

He looked down at the beach.

Source: The New Jedi Order - Traitor

During the slave revolt in the Nursery, Jacen's emphatic skills turned out to be a double-edged sword in that he could feel the other dhuryams' pain and terror as his own, and felt each one of the dhuryams he killed this way. The text mentions that he killed at least six dhuryams and was even about to kill the one he linked with, being able to put aside the pain it was putting him through:

Killing dhuryams got easier after the first one.

The first one was murder.

Jacen could feel it.

Standing on the plug that sealed the mouth of the dhuryam's hexagonal birth chamber, the wax warm under his feet, almost alive, he felt the searing terror of the infant dhuryam trapped beneath him: smothering in panicked claustrophobia, nowhere to run, no hope to hide, screaming telepathically, begging bitterly, desperately. He could feel the life he was about to take: a mind as full of hopes and fears and dreams as his own, a mind he was about to rip out of existence with a slash of blade and caustic burn of amphistaff venom.

His every instinct rebelled: all his training, his Jedi ideals, his whole life absolutely forbid him to slay a helpless cowering creature.

[...]

He raised his twin amphistaffs over his head, then sank to one knee to drive them downward through the wax plug.

He felt the blades enter the flesh of the infant dhuryam below as though they sliced through his own belly; he felt the caustic snarl of venom spreading into the dhuryam's body as though it coursed his own veins.

He yanked the amphistaffs free and scrambled for the next birth chamber.

Killing the next one doubled the weight of his emphatic pain, for the first one was still alive, still suffering, screeching telepathic terror and despair; killing the third buckled his knees and drew red-veined clouds across his vision.

[...]

A red haze closed in around him, a bloody mist that might have been real smoke and fog and copper-flavored fire, or might have been inside his head, or both. The hive-island became a nightmare mountain, all jagged rock and killing and an endless scramble toward a peak that he could never see. Figures rose up, indistinct blurs lurching at him through the red haze, swinging weapons, clutching, clawing. He cut at them, cut through them, killing and scrambling and killing, falling to hands and knees to drive blades again and again through one wax plug and another and another, casting aside amphistaffs with their venom glands exhausted, drawing new weapons out from his own armor, his armor that lived and saw and struck these red-blurred shapes with death-soaked accuracy.

Then he was up high, close to the top; he couldn't tell who might be around him or where he might be but he knew he was high up a mountain, cresting the uttermost peak of the galaxy, beyond the atmosphere, beyond the moons, taller than the stars. He raised his last amphistaff like a battle flag. Before he could plant it down through the blood-smeared plug beneath his torn and cut bare feet, a supernova flared inside his brain—

And burned down the universe. There was nothing left.

Nothing but white.

Hungry white: eating everything he was. But he had been in the white before. He knew its secrets, and it could not stop him.

Beneath this hexagonal lid was the source, the wellspring, the fountain of white. He could feel it down there: squirming alien tentacles bathed in slime and terror. He could cut off the agony. One stroke more would end it for everyone. Forever.

He lifted his amphistaff.

Source: The New Jedi Order - Traitor

Jacen spent weeks trekking through Yuuzhan'tar:

Weeks of trekking had thinned and hardened his body, carving him into knotted rope and tanned leather. His hair had grown out in unruly curls, now streaked with blond by the harsh ultraviolet of the blue-white sun. His thin, itchy teenager's beard had filled in, wiry, darker than his hair. He could have dug up some depilatory creme from an abandoned refresher along the way, or even a blade sharp enough to shave with, but he hadn't bothered. The beard protected his cheeks and jaw from sunburn.

[...]

He'd avoided contact with the Vonglife whenever possible; much of it had unpleasant properties—the tea-smelling purple sap that had bled from the duracrete moss, for example, had turned his hands into masses of blistered welts for three days.

Source: The New Jedi Order - Traitor

Jacen shares the pain of a Yuuzhan Vong warrior while fighting him, which included third-degree electrical burns, shattered knuckles, and a small feeling of blacking out as the warrior is hit with thud bugs:

Jacen spun the knapsack overhand to smash the warrior straight down to the ground, but the warrior lifted his blade to parry, slashing the knapsack in half, scattering protein bars and canned synthmilk, shearing the electrobinoculars neatly in half and stabbing into the electronic guts of the datapad—which exploded into blue-white sparks that lit up the rain and scaled the length of the amphistaff to scorch the warrior's hands.

The warrior hacked a glottal curse as his hands spasmed involuntarily. Smoking, the amphistaff fell limp to the ground between them. Jacen grimaced as pain bit his own hands, chewing its way up his arms—but it wasn't his pain.

This was pain from the warrior's burns.

[...]

The warrior snarled and swung his knotted fists. Jacen flicked the first punch aside; the second, he parried with an open palm as he stepped forward, swinging his own doubled arm, so that the warrior's knuckles slammed into the point of Jacen's oncoming elbow. The warrior howled as his knuckles shattered, and a blaze of alien pain ignited in Jacen's arm: splintered bones stabbing through third-degree electrical burns.

"I can do this all day." He could: the warrior might as well have been a part of Jacen's own body. He could no more fail to meet an attack than one of his hands would miss the other in the dark. He would feel every scrap of whatever pain he inflicted, but so what? It was only pain.

And the rest—

He let himself go, moving light and easy, counters to every attack as clear and obvious and predictable as a form he'd done a thousand times: like training with Jaina, when their Force talents and their twin bond had made them practically one person. More warriors sighted the fight—the dance—and thud bugs snapped through the air, and Jacen actually felt he should apologize as he gracefully faked the warrior off balance and then took his outstretched arm and spun him into their path. The thud bugs hit him like hammers. Vonduun crab armor saved his life, but transferred enough hydrostatic shock to snuff his consciousness like a switched-off glow rod.

Jacen felt that, too: an eyeflash of blackout that staggered him.

When his eyes cleared, three warriors had him boxed.

Source: The New Jedi Order - Traitor

Jacen falls through the ground to four meters below and lands hard "like a cargo sack":

As if summoned by his thought, an invisible hand shoved his shoulder, knocking his headlong dash into a diagonal stagger. Before he could recover his balance, an invisible rope hobbled his ankles and brought him crashing to the ground—

Which collapsed under him with the dull rip of rotten fibertile, and dumped him headfirst four meters down to a damp stone floor that he hit like a cargo sack. He lay there, half stunned, gasping, wind knocked completely out of him, staring at the sudden constellations that wheeled around his head but shed no light into the surrounding gloom.

Source: The New Jedi Order - Traitor

Jacen ran through Yuuzhan'tar's underbelly to the point where it felt like fire was stabbing into his lungs with every step and his vision was blurring, and because of this he ran into and hit his head on a flagstone, knocking him out:

Daggers of fire stabbed into his lungs with every step. Ragged black dots danced in his vision, growing, blending, twisting until they suddenly billowed and swallowed him whole.

Deep in the darkness . . .

—

He awoke on the floor. Warm rain trickled down his cheeks as he sat up. The palm of one hand was skinned raw. A drop of that warm rain touched his lips, and he tasted blood.

Vergere crouched nearby, half shadowed in the weak amber light from a single glow globe well down the corridor. She watched him with feline patience.

"Until your head becomes as hard as these flagstones, I'd suggest you avoid knocking it into them," she said.

Source: The New Jedi Order - Traitor

Jacen shrugs off the scream of a voxyn:

The ultrasonic screech of the voxyn caught Jacen by surprise and almost paralyzed him—he had forgotten how numbing and terrifying the sound was. He wrenched himself free of the shock and hurled the grenade around the corner, exposing his head just enough to use the Force to guide the grenade down the open mouth of the voxyn.

Source: The New Jedi Order - Destiny's Way

Jacen spins his lightsaber as a blur while deflecting Thud Bugs thrown at him:

Jacen leapt back from the corner, parrying wildly with his lightsaber as the thud bugs soared toward him, either making the sharp turn or bouncing off a wall and then coming on. One bug hit him on the thigh and spun him around, and he used the Force to maintain the spin, his lightsaber a green blur as he batted the missiles away.

[...]

The Yuuzhan Vong kept coming, dozens of them lunging, charging, hurling thud bugs, spitting poison from the heads of their amphistaffs. Jacen's blaster was running out of charges. His lightsaber was a brilliant green blur as it parried and slashed. Pace by pace, he stepped back into the narrowing shaft.

Source: The New Jedi Order - Destiny's Way

Jacen ran for 15 minutes on Coruscant—

Fifteen minutes of flat-out running brought them to the Bridge of Unity, which had lost the ornamental wirework and inscribed plaques that had earned it landmark status.

Source: The New Jedi Order - The Unifying Force

—when Coruscant looked like this:

Rain was falling hard and being driven every which way by fierce gusts of wind. Overhead it was no longer possible to differentiate flashes of lightning from the artificial brilliance of deadly engagements. It was impossible to distinguish between the lament of the wind and the howl of strafing starfighters; the billowing smoke from scudding storm clouds; the sizzle of fires being extinguished by the rain from the sound of laser bolts cleaving the saturated air. The booming cannonades of distant weapons might easily have been rolling thunder; the red-orange pillars on the horizon, erupting volcanoes or the glowing ejecta of plasma launchers.

Source: The New Jedi Order - The Unifying Force

Jacen is struck by Supreme Overlord Shimrra hard enough in the chest to black out but only for an instant:

The bunker inclined, sending Jacen directly toward Shimrra. Without thinking—and without his lightsaber—he lunged for the neck of the towering Yuuzhan Vong. But Shimrra perceived Jacen’s intent, and threw his mighty right arm behind him. Jacen was hit squarely in the center of the chest.

Dropping to the floor, he blacked out.

When he came to an instant later, he saw that Luke had obviously intercepted Shimrra’s follow-up blow.

Source: The New Jedi Order - The Unifying Force

Jacen survives Nom Anor’s poison eye hitting him directly in the face:

Nom Anor raised his hands in surrender. “It was an innocent mistake! Now isn’t the time to argue!” He risked a step toward Han. “We must board the escape craft before this vessel—“

Nom Anor lunged forward.

“His eye!” Jaina yelled.

Poison spewed from the plaeryin bol. Han was too encumbered to twist himself or Jaina out of its path. In a blur, Jacen interposed himself between Nom Anor and his father, and took the lethal gush full in the face.

Even better than hoped for! Nom Anor thought. With Jacen out of the way, he could easily incapacitate the others. With his right hand, he reached for the little finger of his left. At the same time, he steeled himself for a dash across the grotto. It would take a moment for the knockout gas released by the false digit to reach full effect, and that moment constituted all the time he had to reach the escape craft lock and seal it behind him.

In the instant his hands met, he heard the snap-hiss of a lightsaber.

And in the interminable instant that followed, he watched Leia’s energy blade sever his left hand at the wrist, and watched himself falling to his knees in shock and searing pain. Worse, it was Jacen who came to his side, weakened by the plaeryin bol’s venom, but very much alive.

“It didn’t have to be this way,” the young Jedi said.

Source: The New Jedi Order - The Unifying Force

Jacen severely burns his hand while flow-walking but admits that pain is his servant and no longer troubles him thanks to his lessons with Vergere:

Smoke began to rise from beneath Jacen's palm, and the smell of cooking flesh filled the air. He kept his hand pressed against the wall. Pain no longer troubled him. Pain was his servant; he had learned that from Vergere.

Source: Dark Nest I: The Joiner King

Jacen and a group of Jedi use Force Jumps to make their way up a 300 meter slope of sand. They do so while also having to deal with a Chiss drop ship firing charric beams at them which pack more kinetic charge then normal blaster bolts and are strong enough to disarm a few of them from the effort of deflecting the bolts:

Jaina and Zekk and the others continued to ascend the slope in Force leaps, but there was no sign of any healthy Killiks—either the laser cannons had gotten them all, or the survivors were staying hidden.

The turbolaser strikes continued to come, obscuring the Jedi Knights' vision and slowing their progress, but failing to stop them entirely. It was difficult enough to hit moving targets from orbit, without those targets having the Jedi danger sense to warn them when a strike was headed their way.

The team was halfway up the slope when the turbolaser barrage suddenly ended.

[...]

Then the drop ship's belly turret spun toward the Jedi and began to stitch the slope with fire from its twin charric guns. Jaina, Zekk, and the others raised their lightsabers and started to knock the beams back toward the vessel. Unlike blaster bolts—which carried very little kinetic charge—the charric beams struck with an enormous impact. Several times Jaina, Zekk, and even Lowbacca felt their lightsabers fly from their grasps and had to use the Force to recall their weapons.

The Jedi Knights continued up the dune in sporadic leaps, taking turns covering each other, seeking the protection of craters or mounds of sand when they could, but always advancing toward the crest of the dune and the bomb.

[...]

Now that the laser cannons had fallen silent, Jaina leapt out of the crater and led the charge toward the top of the dune. Half the Chiss commando squad stopped and started to lay fire down the slope, while the rest raced the last few meters to the bomb and began to string a linked line of vape charges around it.

Jaina and the other Jedi Knights continued their ascent, deflecting the charric beams back toward the Chiss who were working to set the charges. Four of these commandos fell before their fellows realized what the Jedi were doing, but the survivors were too well trained to lose focus.

By the time Jaina and the others neared the crest of the dune, the charges had been placed and the survivors were scrambling to rejoin their companions.

[...]

As Jaina made her accusation, she and Zekk were turning back toward the bomb—now about three hundred meters above, still at the top of the dune.

Source: Dark Nest III: The Swarm War

NOTE: After the Jedi reach the top of the dune, the Chiss activate charges they set on the "bomb" mentioned in the text, which forces the team to Force Jump back down the dune to get away from the imminent explosion.

Jacen is stabbed through the abdomen by Lomi Plo's lightsaber, with the stab ending up puncturing and leaving holes in three different organs. Jacen didn't take any bacta to help heal the injuries because bacta was low at the time after the Killik's attacked and occupied Thyferra, so Jacen chose to heal himself with just Healing Trances while leaving bacta for non-Jedi patients:

Then Jacen was there, slipping in front of Mara, his lightsaber flashing up to block. He caught the blow above his head and whipped his blade over Lomi Plo's and sent her white lightsaber spinning away into the rubble.

But Lomi Plo had two lightsabers, and she brought the second one up under Jacen's guard, pushing it into the abdomen of his vac suit. The purple tip came out through his back, and still Luke could not move. If anything, he was more paralyzed than ever; he could not breathe, could not blink . . . it seemed to him that even his heart had stopped beating.

The tip of Mara's power blaster appeared under Jacen's upraised arm, and Luke could feel the anger that was driving Mara, the rage at what had happened to their nephew. A blinding bolt flashed from the barrel, taking Lomi Plo full in the chest and sending her tumbling head over heels, leaving her purple lightsaber hanging in Jacen's body.

And suddenly Luke could move again. He used the Force to pull himself over to Jacen and Mara, then deactivated Lomi Plo's lightsaber and tossed the handle aside. By the time he had finished, Mara was already placing a patch over the holes in Jacen's vac suit.

[...]

Mara waited for Buugi to leave, then turned to Jacen. "Shouldn't you be in a bacta tank?"

"With the Killiks still holding Thyferra, the fleet is running short on bacta," Jacen explained, moving his chair closer to her bedside. "I'm out of action for a couple of weeks anyway, so I thought I'd save it for someone who doesn't have a healing trance."

Mara nodded her approval. "Good idea—very thoughtful." She pointed at the drainage bag hanging from his side. "How is it?"

"Inconvenient," Jacen said. "I've got holes in three different organs, and I can't move well enough to fight until I fix them."

Source: Dark Nest III: The Swarm War

Jacen easily deflects blaster bolts while walking towards a group of twenty soldiers, deflecting only the shots that were a threat to him while also deflecting them back towards the shooters:

Now making the turn from the balcony into the corridor and running toward them were half a dozen troops armed with blaster rifles. Their orange jumpsuits were reminiscent of X-wing pilot uniforms, but the green carapace armor over their lower legs, torsos, lower arms, and heads was more like stormtrooper speeder bike armor painted the wrong color.

And then behind the first six troops came another six, and then another eight . . .

Jacen brought his lightsaber out and snapped it into life; the incandescent green of his blade was reflected as highlights against the walls and the armor of the oncoming troops. "Stay behind me," he said.

"Yes, sir." Ben's sigh was audible, and Jacen grinned.

The foremost trooper, who bore gold bars on his helmet and wrists, shouted, his voice mechanically amplified: "Stop whar you are! This saction is restricted!"

Jacen moved forward at a walk. He rotated his wrist, moving his lightsaber blade around in front of him in a pattern vaguely reminiscent of butterfly wings. He shouted back, "Could you speak up? I'm a little deaf."

Ben snickered. "Good one."

"You may not entar this saction!"

They were now twenty meters from the ranks of troopers ahead.

[...]

He took another two steps and the trooper commander called, "Fire!"

The troopers began firing, Jacen gave himself over to the Force, to his awareness of his surroundings, to his sudden oneness with the men and women trying to kill him.

He simply ignored most of the blaster bolts. When he felt them angling in toward him, he twirled his lightsaber blade in line and batted them away, usually back toward the crowd of troopers. In the first few seconds of their assault, four troopers fell to blasts launched by their friends. The smell of burned flesh began to fill the corridor.

Jacen felt danger from behind; felt Ben react to it. Jacen didn't shift his attention; he continued his march forward. He'd prefer to be able to protect the inexperienced youth, but the boy was good at blaster defense practice. Hard as it was to trust a Jedi whose skills were just developing, he had to. To teach, to learn, he had to trust.

Jacen intercepted the next blaster shot that came his way and batted it toward the trooper commander. It struck the man in the helmet and caromed off, burning out against the ceiling; a portion four meters square of the ceiling's illumination winked out, darkening the corridor. The commander fell. The shot was probably not fatal—protected by his helmet, the man would have forehead and scalp burns, probably a concussion, but he was unlikely to die.

The strategy had its desired effect. The troopers saw their commander fall. They continued firing but also exchanged looks. Jacen never broke pace, and a trooper with silver stripes on his helmet called "Back, back." In good order, the troopers began a withdrawal.

Source: Legacy of the Force - Betrayal

Jacen then deflects more blaster bolts than before but still aims them back at his attackers. He does so while the guards were holed up with better firing position than before, at first defending himself from the bolts and then himself and Ben Skywalker when his apprentice joined him:

Jacen's movement out of the corridor brought him within sight of the orange-and-green defenders, who were now arrayed in disciplined rows along the walkway to Jacen's left. As soon as he reached the railing they opened fire again. Their tighter formation allowed them to concentrate their fire, and Jacen found himself deflecting more shots than before.

He felt rather than saw Ben scoot into position behind him, but no blaster bolts came at him from that direction. "What now?" Ben asked.

"Finish the mission." Jacen caught a too-close bolt on his blade near the hilt; unable to aim the deflection, he saw the bolt flash down into the assembly area. It hit a monitor screen. The men and women near the screen dived for cover. Jacen winced; a fraction of a degree of arc difference and that bolt could have hit an explosives package. As inured as he was to causing death, he didn't want to cause it by accident.

"But you're in charge—"

"I'm busy." Jacen took a step forward to give himself more maneuvering and swinging space and concentrated on his attackers. He needed to protect himself and Ben now, to defend a broader area. He focused on batting bolt after bolt back into the ranks of the attackers, saw one, two, three of the soldiers fall.

There was a lull in the barrage of fire. Jacen took a moment to glance over his shoulder. Ben stood at the railing, staring down into the manufacturing line, and to his eye he held a small but expensive holocam unit—the sort carried by wealthy vacationers and holocam hobbyists all over the galaxy.

[...]

With the tip of his lightsaber blade, Jacen caught a blast that was crackling in toward his right shin. He popped the blast back toward its firer. It hit the woman's blaster rifle, searing it into an unrecognizable lump, causing her green shoulder armor momentarily to catch fire. She retreated, one of her fellow soldiers patting out her flames. Now there were fewer than fifteen soldiers standing against the Jedi, and their temporary commander was obviously rethinking his make-a-stand orders.

"Good. How?"

"Well, the way we came in—no. They'd be waiting for us."

"Correct."

"And you never want to fight the enemy on ground he's chosen if you can avoid it."

Jacen grinned. Ben's words, so adult, were a quote from Han Solo, a man whose wisdom was often questionable—except on matters of personal survival. "Also correct."

"So . . . the ends of the assembly lines?"

"Good. So go."

Jacen heard the scrape of a heel as Ben vaulted over the rail. Not waiting, Jacen leapt laterally, clearing the rail by half a meter, and spun as he fell.

Source: Legacy of the Force - Betrayal

Jacen manages to pull Ben Skywalker back toward him by wrapping a grapple line several times around his wrist. He manages to pull Ben back toward a building's wall after the younger Jedi apprentice was pulled away by a strong gust of wind:

Jacen sensed the wind gust a moment before he felt it. He braced himself against it with foot placement and the Force before it hit.

Ben, less experienced, didn't. Jacen saw the boy's cape flap, then Ben was whirled away from the building face, yelling.

Jacen reached out for him, but the boy, still mostly clear-headed, was already hurling the grapnel hook toward him. Jacen snatched it out of the air and wrapped the cord several times around his wrist before the cord hit its maximum length. Jacen braced his arm against the shock of the impact and withstood it without being dragged off the building front.

With cord control and an extra tug against Ben himself through the Force, he dragged Ben back to the building face.

Source: Legacy of the Force - Betrayal

Jacen lands safely on a street after jumping off of a ship several stories in the air as he bounced off a heavy speeder and then tucked and rolled to land:

He saw Ben drop into the back of a grounspeeder, bounce out of it as though it were a trampoline, angle over to bounce onto one end of a dinner table on a streetside second-story balcony—the spray of food dishes catapulting off the table was quite impressive—and then drop down to street level. Jacen contented himself with one bounce from a heavy transport speeder and a tuck-and-roll as he reached the sidewalk beside Ben.

Source: Legacy of the Force - Betrayal

For his versatility and effectiveness, Luke Skywalker chooses Jacen to lead the mission to disable or destroy Centerpoint Station. However, Thrackan Sal-Solo knows of the plan and takes countermeasures designed specifically to incapacitate Jedi, including a powerful sonic attack that’s capable of bringing a Jedi down without aiming. The pain immediately brought Jacen to his knees and pain to every millimeter of his skin as though he were being scorched by a gigantic blowtorch. Jacen would endure the pain, internalize it, and use it to bring himself back to normal operating levels in order to allow himself to deflect blaster bolts while still being racked with pain until he took out the sonic emitter droids:

Thrackan, nonchalant, held a hand out to his side. One of the CorSec officers there handed him what looked like a flight helmet. With slow, deliberate motions, watching Jacen all the time, Thrackan donned it. Then he snapped his fingers. Two droids, looking much like R5 astromechs but with their top halves removed and replaced by naked machinery, rolled up from behind the CorSec officers to the rail.

And the sound began.

Jacen didn't even experience it as sound at first. It hit him like a windstorm, blasting him to his knees, bringing pain to every millimeter of his skin as though he were being scorched by a gigantic blowtorch. His lightsaber fell from his lifeless fingers and rolled away.

Even as the attack convulsed him with pain, Jacen, in some dim portion of his mind that still functioned, recognized it—a sonic assault, something that did not have to be aimed or tracked to bring a Jedi down.

—

Jacen rolled sideways, kicking the metal floor to propel himself, and managed to be a meter away when the first blaster bolt hit the spot where he'd been kneeling. He continued to roll, awkward because of the pain that racked him, but came up on his feet. Despite his blurring vision, he saw his lightsaber rolling across the floor, extended his hand toward it—

Two white egg-shaped canisters hit the floor near him. He leapt backward away from them, rotating through the air as he went, and came down on his feet, but his legs buckled as he landed and he crashed to the floor.

He could still see his lightsaber. He exerted his will toward it. It wobbled on the floor and began rolling toward him.

The egg-shaped canisters detonated, filling the air around them with white smoke. It rapidly spread, obscuring everything. But Jacen managed to maintain his focus, and his lightsaber flew to his hand before the whiteness closed down all vision.

Jacen rolled to the side again, heard and felt the heat from blasterfire hitting where he'd just lain. So they can see, he thought. Optics in their helmets. There had to be sound bafflers, too.

Well, he had a couple of tricks remaining, and they had nothing to do with specialized gear.

He knew more about pain than his opponents realized. At the height of the Yuuzhan Vong war, he'd been a prisoner for months, subjected to their tortures and customs of self-inflicted agony. He had learned to function within their Embrace of Pain and other rituals that would break beings not accustomed to such hardships.

A sudden infliction of pain could surprise him, surely. But it couldn't keep him down.

He let the pain flow through him as though it were the Force. He internalized it, experiencing it as an old friend—albeit an old friend he didn't necessarily want visiting him too often.

He stood and moved forward. His first few steps were awkward and slow, his later ones sure, and once he was in full mastery of his body and the pain that suffused it, he put on a burst of speed in traditional Jedi fashion, outracing the blaster bolts that tailed him.

Pain-racked, unslowed, he neared the wall and leapt high up on it, landing on one of the ascending ramps. Now he was still within the smoke cloud from the canisters but shielded from blasterfire from above. Moments later he reached the walkway level where Thrackan Sal-Solo had stood.

He still could not see, but through the Force he could detect living beings ahead of him. They were changing their order, some retreating, some advancing, the foremost of them aiming . . .

The blaster bolts came, illuminating the canister smoke in curiously beautiful lines as they flashed toward him. He batted them back the way they'd come, mercilessly picking off the soldiers who'd fired them.

Then he changed tactics. There were curious gaps in the formation of the living ahead of them. Those gaps had to be where the droid generators of the sonic waves were situated. He began batting blasterfire toward them, and a moment later the pain-inducing shriek was reduced in volume by half. Three blaster bolts later, the sound and pain cut off entirely, and he could hear a mechanical cough as the motivator of the second sonic generator droid detonated dully within its housing.

"Cease fire." That was the voice of Thrackan, coming from the rear of the unit of six remaining CorSec operative. They obeyed.

Source: Legacy of the Force - Betrayal

Jacen spin kicks a man over a railing:

Jacen sliced through the midsection of his last opponent's blaster rifle and followed through with a spinning kick that catapulted the man over the walkway railing.

Source: Legacy of the Force - Betrayal

Jacen deflects blaster bolts and uses the Force to divert small explosives towards a pair of suicide droids attacking him and then cuts them in half. He then manages to initially deflect continuous fire from twenty CorSec guards before taking a blast in his calf:

He ran back the way he'd come, putting on a Force-based burst of running speed, and leapt through the new opening in the wall.

Corridor, broad, dark. Left, away from the areas of the station he wanted to reach, open. Right, in the distance, a line of CorSec agents, twenty or more in a well-dressed pair of lines, the front line kneeling, curved transparisteel crowd control shields at the ready, while the rear line stood with blasters aimed. Behind the two lines stood Thrackan Sal-Solo.

Closer, ten meters away but floating toward him, scarred and still smoking from where explosion debris had hit them, were two probots.

No, not quite. These droids looked a lot like Rebellion-era probots—misshapen and bulbous, slightly less than two meters tall, they floated on repulsorlifts well above the floor, four mechanical arms dangling beneath, just like the old stealth droids. But these were bronze in color rather than black, and their arms seemed bulkier, sturdier, than old-time probots'.

And they ended in what looked like weapons pods.

As Jacen emerged into the hallway, they activated deflector shields, not a feature of the original probots, and flew straight at him.

They raised weapon pods and began firing—one, a blaster; the other, small oval canisters that had to be explosives.

—

With his lightsaber, Jacen batted away the blasterfire coming from the right-hand probot. He couldn't aim his deflections; that would require too much concentration. Instead, with his left hand, he reached out through the Force and found the projectiles being fired by the left-hand probot. He seized them and redirected them in two streams, one stream toward each droid.

They flew only as far as the droids' deflector shields, out about a meter from their bodies, and adhered there. Then, one after another, they detonated.

Jacen saw the deflector shields weaken with each explosion. He charged forward, relying on his speed and sudden motion to throw off the aim of the probot with the blaster. When the last of the projectiles had detonated, before the probot shields had time to strengthen, he lashed out, first right and then left.

Two probots, sliced in half at the narrowest portions of their bulbous bodies, crashed to the metal floor.

In the silence that followed, Jacen heard Thrackan say, "Open fire."

The rear rank of CorSec agents opened up with their blaster rifles. Each was set to full automatic fire and they filled the air with blaster shots.

Jacen went into a full evasive mode—running, leaping, dodging, spinning his lightsaber in a defensive shield that intercepted shot after shot.

It wasn't enough. He felt a burn against his left calf as a blaster shot grazed it. Another shot, almost as close, tugged at his right sleeve and left a char-lined hole in it.

He leapt up and back, cartwheeling, and as he cleared the zone of heaviest fire, before the security agents could adjust their aim, he reached against the ceiling with the Force. He yanked against that simple, immobile metal surface for all he was worth.

It came free, yielding to his pull. As he landed, a huge sheet of metal ceiling tore free from its housing almost directly overhead and crashed to the floor a mere two meters ahead of him. The far end of the same sheet remained adhered to the housing above, so what Jacen faced was a crude ramp leading upward—and acting as an angled shield between him and the blaster line.

Source: Legacy of the Force - Betrayal

Jacen jumps over blaster fire and beheads two officers with a slash of his lightsaber:

Now she hoped she would not be noticed as she made her way from the main hall. She didn't think she would be. Jacen Solo was doing too good a job of attracting everyone's attention.

He stood alone, a semicircle of security guards from several different forces blocking his path, and as she watched they opened fire. He leapt above the torrent of blaster shots, igniting his lightsaber as he rose, and came down behind his enemies. He spun, and two of them were suddenly headless. The rest fell back from him, firing as they turned.

Source: Legacy of the Force - Exile

.

Jacen has the tendons in his knee ripped when Mara Jade Skywalker Force launches herself to kick him:

He held his breath, listening.

Crack.

His right knee exploded with blinding pain as Mara cannoned out horizontally, Force-assisted, from a side conduit and caught his leg on the joint with her boots, ripping the tendons. As he lost his footing in the narrow passage, screaming, he found himself wedged for a second and groping for support. He lashed out with his lightsaber, shaving powdery brick from the wall. Mara dropped to the muddy floor to dodge the lightsaber, then sprang up and sprinted away down the tunnel.

It wasn't a good start. Jacen swore and made himself run after her, willing endorphins to numb his legs and telling himself himself that he knew she was setting up a trap. She wanted him confined, pinned down, penned.

If she thought tunnels would even the odds, she was wrong. He'd bury her here.

Source: Legacy of the Force - Sacrifice

Jacen then has a tunnel collapsed on him:

If she'd timed it right, he was close to stepping on that rusty plate.

Clang . . .

The rumbling began. She brought down both sections of tunnel, before and behind, with a massive exertion in the Force that made her breathless. She didn't hear him call out. Even in the damp conditions, clouds of fine debris filled the air and made her choke.

Mara waited, one hand over her mouth and nose, shoto drawn, and listened in the Force.

There was whimpering and the chunk-chunk sound of the last falling bricks. She didn't expect that weight of debris from a low ceiling to cause impact injury, but to engulf and immobilize him. He wouldn't be dead—yet.

She waited in silence, a nonexistent presence herself, until she could hear no more movement.

Okay. Let's see what I have to do to end this.

An arm was all that protruded from the rubble. Through a fist-sized gap, she could see the wet, blinking glint of an eye and bloodstained face. A hand reached out to her, fingers splayed, bloody and shaking. Other people might have felt an urge to take that hand, the most distinctively human of things, but it was an old, tired Sith stunt, and she'd used it herself too many times.

Source: Legacy of the Force - Sacrifice

Jacen then takes a misstep and lands in a crack, sending searing pain from his ankle to his knee, and then is stabbed near the collarbone by Mara Jade's shoto:

Then she launched herself at him—unthinking, a wild woman, hair flying—and he Force-pushed to send her slamming against a pillar in midleap. But the battering he'd taken and the ferocity of her relentless attack had blinded him to danger from another quarter. As he lurched backward to avoid her, his legs went from under him and he stumbled into a gaping crack opened up by the subsidence. He fell badly: red-hot pain seared from ankle to knee. His lightsaber went flying. Pain could be ignored, but the moment it took him to get to his feet again was enough for Mara to right herself and come back at him with the shoto and plunge it into the soft tissue just under the end of his collarbone.

Lightsaber wounds hurt a lot more than he ever imagined. Jacen screamed. He summoned his own weapon back to his hand and Mara crashed into him, knocking him flat again and pinning him down.

Source: Legacy of the Force - Sacrifice

Caedus doesn't flinch when a tendril stabs his forearm with poisoned barbs and claims that he feels everything Ben Skywalker does in the Embrace of Pain:

A soft chittering sounded near where Jacen's hand was, and the tendrils holding Ben captive sprouted tiny bristles and injected droplets of venom under his skin. His flesh immediately began to swell and nettle and—as the tendrils constricted—to split and weep ichor.

[...]

He reached out and took the tendril binding one of Ben's wrists to the chair.

"How can you believe I want to do this?" Jacen pulled the tendril away, not even wincing as it wrapped itself around his forearm and sank its anguish-dripping barbs into his flesh. "I'm part of it, Ben. Everything the Embrace of Pain does to you, I feel. We're in this together."

Source: Legacy of the Force - Inferno

Caedus suffers a myriad of injuries during his fight with Luke Skywalker aboard the Anakin Solo, listed as: a lightsaber cut a few centimeters into his kidney; an elbow to his temple; a knee to his chin that resulted in a "teeth crack" sound; a kick to the stomach that lifted him a meter off the ground; a lightsaber burn to his shoulder; a hand-sized rectangle of skin burned off his skull from Luke's lightsaber; a little finger scratching his eye; Force pushed into a rack that wrapped him up in tendrils that cut into his flesh and oozed a yellowish irritant that made his skin puff up and split; an elbow to the face that shattered a bone; launched backwards and slammed his skull into a metal wall; elbowed under the chin with the strength of both Luke's arms; struck with a palm strike; and finally stabbed between the shoulder blades with a vibrodagger. Despite this, he is still alive and even leading his ship with Battle Meditation a few hours later:

Ben's jaw dropped, and Jacen started to spin, snatching his lightsaber from his belt and igniting it in the same motion, bringing the emerald blade around high to protect his heart and head.

But Luke was attacking low, striking for the kidney to disable in the most painful way possible. Jacen's eyes widened. He flipped his lightsaber down in the same moment Luke's met flesh.

The tip sank a few centimeters, drawing a pained hiss as it touched a kidney, then Jacen's blade made contact and knocked it aside. Even that small wound would have left most humans paralyzed with agony. But Jacen thrived on pain, fed on it to make himself stronger and faster. He simply completed his pivot and landed a rib-crunching round-house.

Luke stumbled back, his chest filled with fire. Jacen had caught him on the barely healed scar from his first fight with Lumiya, and now his breath was coming in short painful gasps.

Good, Luke thought. This was supposed to hurt.

Jacen followed the kick with a high slash. Luke blocked and spun inside, landing an elbow smash to the temple that dropped Jacen to his knees. He brought his own knee up under Jacen's chin, hearing teeth crack—and relishing it. He parried a weak slash at his thighs, then drew his blade up diagonally where his nephew's chest should have been.

[...]

Luke raised his lightsaber, slashing through the thorn bed as he sprang. Jacen scrambled to his feet, barely bringing his weapon up in time to block a vicious downstroke. Luke landed a snap-kick to the stomach that lifted Jacen a meter off the deck, then followed it with a slash to the neck—

—which Jacen ducked. He came up under Luke's guard, holding his weapon with one hand and driving a Force-enhanced punch into Luke's ribs with the other, striking for the same place he had kicked earlier. Luke's chest exploded into pain, and he found himself croaking instead of breathing.

Luke struck again with his lightsaber, using both hands and putting all his strength into the attack, beating his nephew's guard down so far that Jacen emerald blade bit into his own shoulder. Jacen kicked at Luke's legs, catching the side of a knee. Something popped and Luke felt himself going down. On the way, he swept his blade horizontally.

Jacen screamed, and the smell of scorched bone and singed hair filled the air. Knowing Jacen would strike despite the wound, Luke rolled over his throbbing knee and spun back to his feet with a clearing sweep.

His blade met Jacen's in a shower of brilliant sparks. Luke freed one hand and drove a finger-strike at Jacen's eyes.

Jacen turned his head, but Luke's little finger scratched across something soft and bulbous. Jacen roared and stumbled away, shaking his head. Luke feinted a dash toward his nephew's blind side, then—as Jacen pivoted to protect his injured eye—Luke hit him with a Force wave.

Jacen went flying, and it required only a soft nudge to steer him into a tendril-draped rack in the far corner. He hit with so much cracking and crashing that Luke worried the rack had broken, but the thin tendrils quickly entwined Jacen in a net of pulsing green.

Luke started forward, his injured knee buckling each time he put weight on it. The rack's slender tendrils were tightening around Jacen, cutting into his flesh and oozing a yellowish irritant that made skin puff up and split. Jacen began to slash his lightsaber up and down, cutting the vines away two and three at a time. If Luke wanted to finish this—and it seemed like a good idea, given how battered he was himself—he had only a few seconds.

[...]

Luke spat a mouthful of blood and Force-leapt after his nephew, at the same time reaching out to drag him back. They came together in a blinding flurry of sparks, their blades colliding faster than the eye could follow, filling the dark chamber with flashing fans of color. Blows came out of nowhere. Luke caught another kick in his knee and found himself calling on the Force to keep his balance. He landed an elbow and felt a bone in Jacen's face shatter.

[...]

Luke slammed an elbow into Jacen's ribs, but it was like hitting a permacrete wall. Instead of continuing to fight, he accelerated into the spin, using the Force to hurl them both into the nearest wall.

Jacen hit first, his skull clunking hard into the durasteel. The garrote loosened a little. Luke dropped his lightsaber, bracing one hand against the other so he could use the strength of both arms to hammer his elbow up under Jacen's chin.

The garrote went completely slack. Luke followed up with a palm-heel to the same target, using the impact to drive himself away from his attacker and buy some maneuvering room.

Then Jacen let out a bloodcurdling scream and stumbled away, a black silhouette vanishing into the darkness of the torture chamber.

Luke stepped back in shock and confusion, summoning his lightsaber to hand, but knowing by the surprise in Jacen's scream that this was not another trick.

"It's okay, Dad," Ben said from beside him. "It's just me."

Ben took the glow rod from Luke's belt and activated it. Jacen was crawling across the torture chamber, the hilt of a vibrodagger protruding from between his shoulder blades. His face was inflamed and misshapen, his clothes were smoking and tattered, a hand-sized rectangle of scorched skull showed through his scalp, and still he was stretching a hand toward his lightsaber.

Source: Legacy of the Force - Inferno

The air in the forward infirmary reeked of bacta salve and scorched flesh, and casualties were jammed three and four to a bay. Yet Caedus had an entire corner to himself—and not because his injuries warranted it. He had only a few broken bones and some damaged organs.

[...]

Jacen slipped off the gurney—then groaned in shock as the small impact of landing on the deck sent halos of pain radiating out from his two back wounds. His knees buckled, and he would have fallen if the MD droid's hand hadn't shot out to hold him up.

"In your condition, standing is out of the question," the droid informed him. "Even if the swelling in your brain doesn't destroy your balance, you have burn damage to your kidney and a perforation in your lung. You're simply too weak."

Source: Legacy of the Force - Inferno

Here's a little more info on the injuries Caedus received during his fight with Luke:

Caedus hurt everywhere. Mere days before, he had waged the most ferocious, most terrible lightsaber duel of his life. In a secret chamber aboard his Star Destroyer, the Anakin Solo, he had been torturing Ben Skywalker to harden the young man's spirit, to better prepare Ben for life as a Sith. But he had been caught by Ben's father, Luke Skywalker.

[...]

At the end, Caedus had lost a position of advantage—Luke had slipped free of the poison-injecting torture vines with which Caedus had been strangling him—when Ben had driven a vibroblade deep into Caedus's back, punching clean through a shoulder blade, nearly reaching his heart.

That had ended the fight. Caedus should have been killed immediately. For reasons he did not understand, Luke and Ben had spared his life and departed. It was a mistake that would cost Luke.

Bearing dozens of minor and major wounds, including the vibroblade puncture, a lightsaber-scored kidney, and a fierce scalp wound, Caedus had been treated and resumed command of the Anakin Solo, only to experience more injury—emotional injury, this time.

Source: Legacy of the Force - Fury

Caedus briefly knocks out Jedi Knight Valin Horn with a kick in the beginning of his fight against Kyle Katarn's strike team:

He stepped forward again into a side kick, aimed not at Katarn but at the onrushing Valin Horn. His boot heel caught the Jedi Knight on the point of his chin, knocking Horn backward off his feet.

Source: Legacy of the Force - Fury

Valin and Jedi Master Kyle Katarn confronted Jacen, at first alone, and it took just seconds for Solo to lash out with a kick that caught Valin in the chin and knocked him briefly unconscious.

Source: The Complete Star Wars Encyclopedia

Oneness

Oneness is a state of union with the Force, although this is usually only achieved after death. While living if a person was to become one with the Force, they would become an extension of the Force, essentially becoming nothing more than a tool while they were at a perfect calm state.

Jacen enters a powerful state of Oneness during the final fight of the Yuuzhan Vong War, facing off against the real Supreme Overlord Onimi in his ship. Jacen becomes the perfect conduit for the Force, incapable of taking missteps or making wrong moves. In this state, he effortlessly transforms all the toxins Onimi tries to use against him into nonlethal fluids, repairs the ship when Onimi tries to use it against him, and even reverses the many disfigurements on Onimi before melting him with his sheer power:

Jacen and Jaina Solo then accompanied Luke to the surface of Coruscant to stop Supreme Overlord Shimrra. Upon entering Shimrra's throne room, they were beset by over a dozen deadly Slayers. Luke confronted Shimrra himself and used paired lightsabers to sever the Supreme Overlord's huge head from his body. With the efforts of Jacen Solo, who was able to channel the Force as he had never done before, the Jedi were able to defeat the true power behind the Yuuzhan Vong throne, and bring an end to the conflict.

Source: Star Wars Databank (Old)

During the recapture of Coruscant, Jacen found himself face-to-face with Onimi, the Yuuzhan Vong court jester who was revealed to be the true power behind the throne. Jacen became a luminous being and a living conduit of the Force, killing Onimi and ending the war.

Source: The Complete Star Wars Encyclopedia

Luke and the twins breach Shimrra’s citadel—which also becomes a spacebound vessel—where they are nearly overwhelmed by slayers. Luke gives himself fully to the Force, becoming a whirlwind of devastation, slashing through Yuuzhan Vong guards. Shimrra engages Luke in a duel, his amphistaff of command against Skywalker’s paired lightsabers. Though Luke is poisoned by amphistaff venom, the Jedi Master decapitates Shimrra, bringing an end to his reign.

But it turns out Shimrra was never the true power behind the Yuuzhan Vong. The real mastermind was the twisted, snickering jester who sat at Shimrra’s feet: Onimi. Jaina chases the Shamed One into the upper passages of the citadel. The twisted Yuuzhan Vong hides Force abilities—a former shaper, Onimi discovered how to reconnect to the Force when in his experiments he grafted yammosk tissue to his brain. Able to manipulate the minds of others, Onimi made Shimrra his puppet as he commanded the invasion of the galaxy.

Jacen confronts Onimi and taps into the unifying Force, letting its power flow through him. He briefly becomes a luminous being whose power overwhelms Onimi, destroying the Yuuzhan Vong mastermind. The Jedi escape aboard the Millennium Falcon as Onimi’s escape vessel disintegrates, an explosion that apparently takes Nom Anor with it. Without their leader, the Yuuzhan Vong are finally defeated.

Source: The Essential Reader's Companion

Jacen Solo confronted Onimi, and the Jedi tapped into the unifying Force in a way that was deeper than ever before. Onimi attacked as a shaper, using his enhanced abilities to turn every bodily fluid he possessed into poisons or hallucinogens that he could inject via his fang or simply apply to Jacen's skin. Through his own connection to the Force Jacen neutralized them all, rendering them nothing more than sweat and tears. As Jacen became more and more a living conduit for the Force, he was able to attack Onimi on the level of purest energy. Onimi, unable to let go of the hatred and greed he had lived with for so long, was rendered into nothingness by Jacen's actions. As his body re-formed itself into an Unshamed form, Onimi collapsed and died.

Source: The Complete Star Wars Encyclopedia

Onimi was eager to train his awesome powers on Jacen, and to do that he had no need for an amphistaff or coufee. He was capable of manufacturing paralytic agents and lethal poisons. And in the same way the World Brain oversaw Coruscant, Onimi controlled the environment of the living vessel, and could turn any or all parts of it against Jacen.

Jacen realized that he was about to engage in a battle that would be decided not by knowledge of the Force, so much as fealty to its will. This was not a duel, but a relinquishment.

Once more he heard the voice of the vision he had had on Duro: Stand firm . . .

His heart told him that it was the voice of his grandfather, Anakin Skywalker.

—

On the bridge of the vessel whose every component answered to him, Onimi sent a blur of objects racing for Jacen, beginning with the carved idols that flanked Jaina: cloaked Yun-Harla, many-armed Yun-Yammka, thousand-eyed Yun-Shuno, and the rest. But Jacen stood firm. Not wanting to risk hurting Jaina inadvertently by deflecting the objects, he pulled everything into a whirling cloud, as if in orbit around him. Beyond the cloud, he was dimly aware that a transparency had formed above the console, and that constellations of stars were winking into existence, smeared in places by the explosive exchanges among the hundreds of warships battling at the edge of Coruscant's envelope.

Jacen's steadfast defense infuriated Onimi. Reaching deeper into himself, the Supreme Overlord used his telekinetic powers to create cracks in the bulkheads and ceiling, hoping to add chunks of unrooted yorik coral to his conjured storm. But as fast as the fissures formed, Jacen repaired them, and those chunks that were torn away he ordered the vessel to cement in place.

Mismatched eyes opened wide in disbelief, Onimi charged, his feet moving so rapidly that he might have been gliding across the deck.

Though crippled by the deformations that had resulted from poorly healed enhancement surgeries and the consequences of experimental escalations, the former shaper was still taller than Jacen and pound for pound more powerful. But the struggle had nothing to do with size and less to do with brute strength. Onimi's true potency lay in his abilities to amplify the electric current that flowed through his body, or—like Vergere—to call on his refined metabolism to fashion molecules and compounds, and deliver them through his curving yellow fingernails, his single fang, his blood, sweat, saliva, and breath. But where Vergere had learned to produce emollients and healing tears, Onimi was capable of producing a brew of fast-acting and deadly toxins. Compared to the former shaper's master of Yuuzhan Vong bioscience, Vergere had been a mere adept.

He flew at Jacen with hands upraised and mouth ajar. Jacen lifted his hands in defense and he and Onimi met with blinding discharges of electrical energy that entangled both of them in a flashing web. Their hands interlocked, they whirled from one side of the bridge to the other in a kind of mad pirouette, caroming off the coarse bulkheads and smooth instrumentation. Jaina sent her twin what reinforcement she could summon, but he told her to conserve her strength.

The transmutated secretions from Onimi's palms and fingertips sent hallucinogens through Jacen's skin and capillaries, and coursing through his bloodstream. Onimi's paralyzing fang struck repeatedly for Jacen's temples and neck. Poison wafted on his forced sighs and rode within the droplets of his frothing saliva.

But the Jacen that the Supreme Overlord had in his taloned grip was not there. Where once Jacen had been unable to find Onimi through the Force, now it was Onimi who couldn't find Jacen. What he found instead was formless, supple, and fathomless—an infinite emptiness, but as serene as a wind toppling tress to encourage new growth.

A being of light, Jacen was drawing into himself all of Onimi's lethal compounds, neutralizing them and casting them out as sweat, tears, and exhalations.

He understood at last why he had failed to catch Anakin's lightsaber when Luke had tossed it to him: he was never meant to catch it, because he had become the lightsaber.

He had attained the ability to cut through any resistance in himself; to sever the bonds of preconception; to open a gaping hole into a reality more expansive than any he had ever dared imagine; to heal. As his grandfather had done, he had broken through the apparent opposites that concealed the absolute nature of the Force, and found his way into an unseen unity that existed beyond the seeming separateness of the world. For a moment all the cosmic tumblers had clicked into place, and light and dark sides became something he could balance within himself, without having to remain on one side or the other. The consciousness that was Jacen Solo was strewn across the vast spectrum of life energy. He had passed beyond choice and consequence, good and evil, light and dark, life and death.

All that had been required of Jacen was complete surrender—a technique once mastered by the Jedi Order but at some point misplaced; transposed to an emphasis on individual achievement, which had opened a way to arrogance.

In that the path was available to any who chose to seek and follow it, Jacen understood that the discovery was really a rediscovery. Indeed, the ur-Yuuzhan Vong had adhered to it when they had lived in symbiosis with Yuuzhan'tar. In that dim protohistorical time, they had been group-minded, living in a world where the boundaries between self and other were permeable. By cutting that bond they had isolated themselves from the force. They had deluded themselves into thinking that they were worshiping life, when in fact they were worshiping the only route to symbiosis left open to them, which was death.

Jacen realized that, in a sense, he had paraphrased Onimi. He had passed beyond the tradition of the Jedi Order into a more embracing reality. But instead of attempting to steal the authority of the gods, or to become a god, he had finally allowed himself to merge with the Force in its entirety and become a conduit for its raw power, which flowed through him like the thundering headwaters of a great river. The conjoining of the Force and his Vongsense enabled him to render himself small enough to follow Onimi wherever he went or attempted to hide; to counter Onimi's every action, and merge with his living vessel on a molecular level.

Jacen ended their spinning, bringing them to a halt in the center of the bridge, where he continued to parry Onimi's strikes. The Supreme Overlord's lolling eye fixed him with a gimlet stare.

Gradually Onimi began to understand, as well. He grasped that Jacen wasn't defending himself so much as using Onimi's own strengths against him. Jacen was fighting without fighting; drawing Onimi deeper into the struggle by demanding more of Onimi's indigenous toxins, to the point that he couldn't keep up. Jacen was the vacuum, the dovin basal singularity into which Onimi was being sucked. Jacen had become the dismantling void that was drawing Onimi into a slender thread, attenuating him to the point of infinite smallness.

Onimi's self-deformed face began to change. His arteries pulsed and his veins bulged from beneath his pale skin.

Onimi fought with everything that remained in him, but Jacen could not be overwhelmed. As a pure conduit of the Force, he was incapable of taking missteps or making wrong moves. He stood not at the edge of the tilting ecliptic of his vision, but at the center, as a fulcrum. The weight that would disturb the balance was Onimi, but to Jacen, that weight was no longer of sufficient mass to make a difference.

The Force encased Jacen like a whirlwind, moving deep into the darkness the Yuuzhan Vong had brought to the galaxy, and gathering it and sending it up the spout into the funnel cloud, where it was transformed and dispersed.

Onimi was becoming more insubstantial by the moment.

Jacen continued to stand firm, righting the world.

He had become so powerful as to be dangerous to his own galaxy, for he could see clearly the temptations of the dark side and the desire to force one's will on others—to so completely dominate that all life would kowtow to him.

He purged his mind of all pride and evil intent and entered a moment of unadulterated bliss, where he seemed to have unlocked the very secrets of existence.

He knew that he would never again be able to reach this exalted state, and at once that he would spend the rest of his life trying.

—

Neither Jaina nor Jacen had answered Leia's calls as Nom Anor had led the search for them, but the reason for their silence became clear the moment she entered the bridge of the accelerating alien vessel.

She was last to arrive in the cavernous chamber. Nom Anor and Han, blaster in hand, had raced in ahead of her, only to be transfixed by the spectacle unfolding before their eyes—a sight Leia knew she would carry to her grave, and all the more spellbinding for the backdrop of familiar stars, hyphens of coherent light, roiling plasma missiles. She felt as if she were wedged between a dream and a vision; lifted into a realm that was usually denied to mortal beings.

In the center of the bridge Jacen stood like a pillar of blinding light, feet planted, arms at his sides, chin lifted. The dazzling light seemed to spin outward from his midsection and surround him like an aura. His face was almost frighteningly serene, and perhaps a touch sad. The pupils of his eyes were like rising suns. He seemed to age five years—features maturing, complexion softening, body elongating—as Leia watched breathlessly.

What youth might have remained in her son vanished.

Across the bridge, Shimrra's Shamed familiar, Onimi, was pinned to the coarse bulkhead like a captive shadowmoth, uneven eyes rolled up into his deformed head and slavering mouth opened wide in wonderment, agony, despair—it was impossible to know.

Jaina dangled limply between her brother and Onimi, as if a mournful sculpture, fragile but growing stronger by the moment.

And as she strengthened, Onimi began to wane. For an instant it appeared that the surgeries, mutilations, and disfigurements were reversing themselves. The Shamed One's facial features became symmetrical. His twisted body straightened, assuming its original size, shape, and aspect—more human than not, though taller and leaner, with long limbs and large hands. But life deserted him just as quickly. He slid to the deck as if his bones had dissolved. Poured from his mouth, eyes, and ears, corrosive fluids began to consume him, leaving nothing more than a puddle of foul hydrocarbons, which the yorik coral deck absorbed as it might stain.

Immediately the vessel spasmed, as if it had been struck by turbolaser fire, or had in fact sustained a kind of stroke. Color and warmth drained from the living console, and the instruments took on an arthritic look. Cognition hoods and villips grew desiccated. Blaze bugs fell out of formation and died on the floor of their niche. Coral fractured, and the already scant green light faded. With its dovin basal dying, the vessel almost succumbed to a last grab by Coruscant; then it lurched forward once more, aimed resolutely for the heart of the battle.

When Leia finally came back to herself, Jacen had lifted Jaina from the horns on which she had been suspended, and was cradling her in his arms.

"You wouldn't let me help you," she said.

Jacen comforted her with a smile. "I needed you to help yourself."

Source: The New Jedi Order - The Unifying Force

In a Yuuzhan Vong ship that attempted to escape from Coruscant, Jacen battled the invaders' Supreme Overlord and was briefly transformed into the most powerful manifestation of the Force on record. The duel was witnessed by Leia Organa Solo and Han Solo, who had boarded the ship with the assistance of the Yuuzhan Vong executor Nom Anor. Leia Organa Solo made the following recording:

The escape ship was still accelerating from Coruscant as I followed Nom Anor and Han into the cavernous chamber that was the bridge. What I saw made me feel as if I were wedged between a dream and a vision, lifted into a realm that was usually denied to mortal beings.

In the center of the bridge Jacen stood like a pillar of blinding light, feet planted, arms at his sides, chin lifted. The dazzling light seemed to spin outward from his midsection and surround him like an aura. His face was almost frighteningly serene, and also, I thought, a touch sad. The pupils of his eyes were like rising suns. He seemed to age five years—features maturing, complexion softening, body elongating. I felt light-headed, as if I'd forgotten to breathe.

Across the bridge, a male Yuuzhan Vong—Jacen later identified him as the Supreme Overlord—was pinned to the coarse bulkhead like a captive shadowmoth. Between Jacen and the Supreme Overlord was Jaina, suspended a meter above the deck by horns that protruded from the inner bulkhead. She was paralyzed but conscious, and dangled limply, like a mournful sculpture. Then Jaina's form began to strengthen, and at the same time the Overlord waned. Before our eyes, his disfigured body melted away and the bridge's deck absorbed him like a stain.

Jaina was rescued, but what youth remained in my son vanished that day. The sight of him on the bridge is something I will carry with me to my dying day.

Source: Star Wars: Jedi vs Sith - The Essential Guide to the Force

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