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Chapter Text

The harsh orange hues of Iridonia's atmosphere burned against the cold, infinite darkness of space. Its bright aura faded into dying embers reflected by the hull of a massive Trade Federation Freighter as it limped off into the spreading expanse. The ship's thrusters choked out short blue spurts of ion propulsion, lurching the craft forward like a beast dragged against its will. Inside, a scaly fist slammed against a flashing red display panel on the ship's bridge.

"I told you Ezik, this thing wasn't meant to enter the atmosphere! We've burnt out the hyperdrive just getting it back off the planet!" His fists were still balled and his forked tongue lashed beyond his fangs as he wrestled against the seat he had wedged himself into.

"I wasn't the one who wanted to steal it in the first place, Vurg!" Ezik screeched back, towering over the helm. "We could have just stuck with the regular ships and we'd be fine!"

"And then we'd have a tenth the cargo we have now!" Vurg continued to thrash against the ill-fitted chair.

Ezik rattled the controls before smacking his palm against them. "It's not too late. If we send a signal to the other ships now they might still come back for us."

Another panel began to wail and buzz as the struggling Vurg finally wrenched himself upward and stomped towards the plaintive screen.

"What now?" His brow crinkled as he glared at the instruments, and a long breath rattled through his nose. "Jedi," the word slipping through clenched teeth. "Get the cannons ready!"

The sleek, triangular body of a Delta-12 Skysprite separated from its hyperspace ring and glided towards the massive Trade Federation ship.

The boy sitting in the rear seat broke the silence in the cockpit. "Master Tellan, what is a Trade Federation ship doing out here so far from its normal routes?"

The ship's molded controls groaned under Tellan's pensive grip while he thought.

It's a good question.

"I don't know, Suraj," his graveled rasp drew out the words, giving him more time to think. "The Federation would not risk a vessel of this calibre on an unprofitable venture." He shifted upwards in his seat. Their ship carried the diplomatic burgundy paint of the Republic, but he wasn't going to expect a peaceful greeting. "That ship is well armed so we had better proceed with-"

A hail of laser fire burst forth from the Federation ship, cutting Tellan off.

"Watch out!" Suraj shook Tellan's seat as he shrank down in the cockpit.

Tellan swung the controls back and forth while studying the length of the ship.

These freighters aren't made to engage in combat with a ship this size. We have the advantage of speed.

"Just stay calm, I'm going to bring us in closer to narrow their field of attack." Remember your training, Suraj.

Suraj sat up. "Yes, Master."

The pale blue ion trails of the nimble starfighter stretched into blazing white streams of light. The craft weaved back and forth through waves of incoming fire. The bow and stern cannons began to lag behind their target, and Tellan's eyes narrowed as the hull drew closer.

Almost there.

The cannons groaned as their rotational drives vibrated against their limits. Only one continued to defend against the Jedi's advance.

"If we destroy that broadside cannon we'll be able to land in the hangar, Master."

A prideful thought interrupted Tellan's focus for the briefest moment. "I agree. Targeting now."

The ship let loose a volley of attack. Orange laser bolts sailed from its modified cannons. They slammed into their target, blasting it apart into a brief bloom of flame.

"Direct hit!" Suraj turned in his seat as he watched the cannon debris drifting away from the freighter.

"Now, it's time we had answers from the Federation."

They've grown bold if they're firing on diplomatic ships now.

Tellan pulled back on the controls.

The ship rolled over backwards in a sweeping arc. They plunged downward toward a glowing energy field on the side of the hulking vessel. Tellan eased back on the thrusters and slipped through the translucent barrier. The whirring of the ship's landing sequence filled the hangar. A clang of metal on metal rang out and it powered down. The domed cockpit folded open.

Tellan stood above his seat and scanned the room cautiously.

This hangar should be swarming with droids.

Suraj hopped down to the floor and marched towards a nearby corridor.

"Careful, my young Padawan. We don't yet know what we're going to find here."

"Shouldn't we head for the ship's bridge, Master?" Suraj protested as he stopped.

"Patience, Suraj." He had spoken the words a thousand times before.

He leapt to the floor and paced to Suraj's side. He placed a hand firmly on his shoulder.

"Never rush without an idea of what lies ahead."

Suraj's head drooped away from Tellan's stare. "Yes, Master."

Tellan's focus turned to the hallway, giving Suraj a moment to hopefully absorb the lesson this time.

He drifted ahead of his Padawan and peered beyond the hangar exit. The metallic surfaces stretched on towards a junction that forked left and right.

"Stay by my side and be prepared for anything." He continued on without looking back.

The rapid jangle of Suraj's footsteps on the steel deck soon faded as he reached Tellan's side.

Tellan's eyes pressed ahead to the nearing junction. His hand reached under his robe as his unease continued to grow. He looked expectantly at Suraj, who nodded and unclipped his lightsaber from his belt. Suddenly, the sound of distant clangs and Dosh curses began to echo toward them.

"Doshalá! Get in position!" the voices echoed from just beyond the junction.

Tellan pulled his lightsaber from beneath his robe. It ignited with a thrum.

Can't give them time to prepare.

He rounded the corner.

The Trandoshans started at Tellan's appearance. They opened fire.

A hail of lasers filled the hall.

Tellan swung to deflect the first bolt. A flash of blue against red sent the projectile crashing into the ceiling. A shower of sparks rained down. The lights began to flicker from impact.

Tellan pressed forward. His blade shifted across his body. Controlled flicks sent more blasts careening into the walls. Short distorted chirps followed each deflection.

The three Trandoshans continued their distant assault, their curses adding to the chaos.

"Shoot him already, you fools!" The Trandoshan took a step backward.

"Hssh! I'm trying," another cried. His blaster barrel wavered along with his hand.

"They're too close!" the third fled down the hall, flailing his rifle and firing wildly behind him with one hand.

Suraj appeared at Tellan's side. His lightsaber swung up into the oncoming fire.

A bolt landed squarely against his blade—and flew back towards the Trandoshans.

It struck one in the chest with a kinetic splat.

The Trandoshan and his rifle flopped onto the floor backwards in a heap.

"Gahk!" the last one spurted at the sizzling body beside him.

He turned back—just in time to see a streak of blue drop across his chest.

Tellan flourished his blade with a twirl. His glare shifted down the hall.

Without a second glance at the fallen, he launched into pursuit.

Suraj leapt past the fallen bodies, his grip tightening on his lightsaber while he sprinted to keep up.

"Seal the doors! They're almost here!" the fleeing Ezik screamed while clamoring onto the bridge.

"K'thak! You led them here?" Vurg's claws clattered frantically on the keys of a nearby panel, trying to secure the room—but he was too late.

Tellan maneuvered into the doorway, his lightsaber ready. He knew there would be no surrender from these pirates.

The remaining two Trandoshans opened fire.

With two quick blocks, Tellan turned their lasers back on them, killing them both.

Vurg's body slumped to the floor—hot with blaster burns. The sour tang of his scorched corpse smoked into the air.

Tellan extinguished his lightsaber and strode forward toward the ship's controls. Time to find answers. He stopped close to one of the consoles and ran his hand across the top of its cold metal frame before sitting to scroll through system readings. Suraj's heavy footsteps soon announced his arrival. Good, he didn't fall far behind. He continued to tap keys until a heavy thud broke his concentration. He turned to see Suraj standing over one of the dead Trandoshans.

"Sorry, Master. He was covering the computers." Suraj pointed to a screen beside the body.

"See what you can find on the nav readings." He turned back to his own screen and began to mutter technical details.

"The hyperdrive is completely destroyed and the thrusters that are still working are strained beyond repair." They nearly tore this ship in two. He pulled away from the screen and spoke loudly for Suraj to hear. "We'll have to get Republic engineers out here to coordinate..." he stopped and furrowed his brow. His gaze wandered beyond the screen in front of him, his lips shaping soundless words. There's something else on the ship. His head cocked to the side as he turned over his shoulder. "Suraj, follow close," the words nearly lost among the distant hum of the struggling engines. His robes billowed behind him as he moved.

"What is it, Master?" Suraj's voice faded away behind him as he hurried back the way they'd come. The compounding echo of his rapid steps on the steel walkway grew louder as he continued down the corridor. He came to a junction and paused as he closed his eyes. Settle your mind, find the source. His shoulders rose slowly as he inhaled, filling his nostrils with the stale, metallic atmosphere. His chin rose ever so slightly and his eyelids fluttered. There. He turned his head and pivoted down the left hallway, his robes again rippling in his wake.

The confines of the corridor fell away behind Tellan as he marched into the ship's vast cargo hold. Rectangular, multi-colored transport crates stretched up to the ceiling all around, stacked on each other in groupings of four. His eyes scanned up to the ceiling before he coursed on among the pillars of cargo. It's here somewhere. He reached out and grazed his fingertips across the crates as he moved. He felt the granular rub of corroded metal interchanging with smooth glossy paint as his pace slowed. He paused at the corner of one of the crates, pressed his palm flat against it, and closed his eyes. He bowed his head, his brow lowering. There's breathing inside! His eyes flashed open and he gripped his lightsaber while swinging himself around to the door. A flash of blue plasma sent the door's lock clattering to the floor, smoking and molten red. The door's hinges groaned as it opened.

"Master!" Suraj called, skidding to a stop near Tellan's side.

Tellan was silent as he stared inside. By the Force… He wiped his palm down across his mouth and chin before raising his lightsaber to illuminate his path as he took a measured step forward.

"Master?" Suraj's words sounded like a call from a distant shore.

Tellan's fingers flicked across the cold roll of iron bars. The acrid stench of stale sweat burned his nostrils. His eyes darted to each cage he approached to assess the crumpled forms of the malnourished Zabrak captives inside. Their drawn faces glowed among the rolling shadows as they squinted against the azure strobing of light.

How long have you been subjected to this torture?

A hand rose slowly as its bony fingers stretched out towards Tellan.

"Padawan," Tellan's eyes locked on the struggling creature. "Contact the Temple immediately. Tell them we need medical assistance and transport for these people." He turned to see Suraj's eyes locked on one of the Zabrak near the entrance. "Suraj! Go!"

"Y-yes, Master!" Suraj stammered as he broke into a sprint back towards the hangar bay.

The echoes from outside faded slowly until just the droning of Tellan's lightsaber mixed with quiet, labored groans remained. He stood in the middle of the scene, turning his head from one creature to the next. Then the scope of their discovery began to dawn on him. He could feel the desperation beyond the walls around him. It stretched upwards, across the room, every direction. A sea of tortured souls all yearning for just a breath of fresh air.

His eyes fell to a cage with a trembling Zabrak woman inside, her back turned to the door. He moved his lightsaber closer and his eyes narrowed upon her. Her skin was stretched tight against her bones, her head drooped below her shoulders, and she rocked gently forward and back. Tellan eased his blade against the cage's lock. It sizzled a moment before falling away, allowing the cage door to creak open. He crouched down to his knees and softly placed a hand on the woman's shoulder. Her back arched in response, but her muscles soon relaxed against his hand as a breath rattled out of her lungs.

"Your nightmare is over. You're safe now." He patted her shoulder, but then he felt something latch onto his finger. He lifted his gaze to the tiny fingers grasping his own. He followed the hand back to a pair of bright yellow eyes staring back at him from the clutch of his mother's arms. How curious. He wiggled his finger in the boy's hand and a warm smile began to spread on his lips. "You have a strong spirit, little one."

"Medical and transport en route, Master," Suraj's sniffling voice rose on his communicator.

"Good work." Tellan responded as he gently wrestled his finger from the boy's grasp. "Come back to the cargo hold when you are able."

A moment passed before Suraj's response came. "Yes, Master," the static of the communicator cut out after his brief reply.

Tellan stood as he continued to hold the child's gaze. He raised his hand against his chin and his shoulders rose and fell under a heavy sigh. His lips again traced out the words in his mind silently. Very curious indeed. His eyes left the boy as they turned back to the entrance. He took a breath and paced toward the door. He could feel another kind of pain beginning to form just outside. He stepped down from the exit and pulled the door aside to find Suraj sitting against the container wall. His knees were pulled against his chest and his head was bowed down against them. The situation had weighed heavily on him, but he could sense the turmoil swirling within Suraj like a typhoon. He crouched down and observed his Padawan.

"Mind your feelings, Suraj," the old Jedi spoke in a steady tone. "It is a horrible thing that's been done to these people, but they'll soon receive care." He clasped his hand around Suraj's forearm. "Do not let this moment drag you into despair, my young Padawan. Take solace in knowing you've saved them from a far worse fate."

Suraj's reddened eyes raised to meet his Master's as he nodded. "Thank you, Master. I'll try."

He gave Suraj's arm a gentle shake. He could sense the storm within him calming. His gaze drifted back towards the container, his mind weighed with contemplation of the small yellow eyes within.

The hospital's glass doors slid open as Tellan paced inside. The fresh pine air gave way to the smell of alcohol as he approached the admissions desk. A silver TC-series protocol droid flickered to life beside its computer.

"Greetings, and welcome to the Hanna Memorial Hospital." Its synthesized voice had a gentle and matronly tone. "May I have your name and reason for visiting, please?"

"Wessimm Tellan." He was sure that his arrival on the planet had already been relayed to the hospital, but he was happy to satisfy the droid's clerical needs.

The droid's eyes flickered grey, registering his name within the system as he spoke, before switching back to their original soft blue. "And your reason for visiting us today?"

"Master Tellan!" A man in a white lab coat hurried toward the desk with his hand outstretched and a clipboard in the other. "I only just learned a few minutes ago you were visiting again. What brings you in today?"

Tellan smiled as he shook the man's hand. He had great appreciation for how accommodating the doctor had been of his visits. "Dr. Frir, happy to see you again. I'm here to see how the patients are recovering."

Dr. Frir motioned Tellan past the desk and the droid powered down into standby mode. "They're doing quite well." The two began to wander deeper into the hospital. "The majority have passed beyond the need for supervised nutrition intake and are progressing well through their physical rehabilitation." He glanced down at his clipboard and lifted a few pages. "These ones have also accepted the offer to settle permanently here on Chandrila."

"That's wonderful news, doctor." Tellan took the clipboard and scanned down the list. A satisfied grin spread on his lips as he found a certain name. "You and your staff have done excellent work, as always." He handed the clipboard back to Dr. Frir. "If you don't mind, I'd like to check in with some of the patients myself."

"Of course, Master Tellan." Dr. Frir shook the Jedi's hand once more. "I'll be making the rounds myself later today if there's anything they need." He nodded and turned back the way they had come, bringing a small recording device from his pocket up to his mouth to dictate into.

Tellan continued on, pacing through the soft morning glow of Chandrila's sky as it spilled in through the windows. Medical droids hummed along the hallway, moving room to room. The scent of citrus wafted in the air as nurses carried freshly laundered sheets. Tellan glanced through each doorway he passed, nodding at the sight of the patients within. Each one was just as Dr. Frir had reported. The fragile state he had found them in replaced by one more fitting of the Zabrak strength he was familiar with.

He came to a stop at one of the doors and rapped a single knuckle on the frame before he entered. The Zabrak woman inside gazed a moment longer out the window before she turned towards him.

"Hello, Wessimm," she beamed. The sunlight caught her pale blue eyes as she lifted her head from the pillow. "I'm so glad to see you again. Please, won't you sit?" She shuffled herself upright and gestured to a tan wicker chair near the foot of the bed.

"Thank you, La'nae." He shifted to the seat as the gentle fragrance of the flowers by her bedside drifted toward him. He lowered himself down carefully and sighed as if finding relief from an arduous journey. The uncertainty of the past weeks finally seemed to be passing from his mind. "I'm happy to see you're doing well."

La'nae smiled, her drifting look assessed him before it trailed away to the far side of the bed. "Ni'dalé, look who's here."

A pair of bright yellow eyes peeked from around the bed frame at him. The little Zabrak boy emerged slowly from his hiding spot between the bed and the wall.

La'nae patted the sheets near Ni'dalé urgently. "Say hello."

"Hello," the boy mumbled, his eyes shifting down to the floor.

Tellan chuckled. "Hello, little one. How are you today?"

Ni'dalé shimmied along the edge of the bed towards his mother. "I'm good."

Tellan grinned. It was the same routine each time they met. "Still shy as ever."

La'nae feigned a stern look while she gathered Ni'dalé's chin with a hand and squeezed his cheeks. "He's shy now, but he talks about the nice tall man all the time when you're gone."

Tellan turned his attention back to Ni'dalé. "Is that so?" He leaned down in his chair. "How would you like to go outside and play?"

Ni'dalé's eyes widened and he slipped out of his mother's grasp toward Tellan.

Tellan rose from his chair and bent down to scoop Ni'dalé up into his arms. He assumed the boy could do with some fresh air and La'nae some quiet.

"Let's let your mother rest while we go find something exciting." He looked to La'nae, who returned an approving nod while settling back against her pillow. He shifted the boy to one arm and carried Ni'dalé out the door. They strolled down the hallway, the old Jedi stopping occasionally to exchange words with hospital staff about the patients. Soon they found themselves outside with the warmth of the sun beating down on them. Tellan set Ni'dalé down and he was gone in a flash, running towards the nearby playground. Tellan watched him as he raced towards a bright red wooden swoop bike. He climbed on and began to make whooshing noises with his mouth.

"Are you going to tell her today, Master?" Suraj asked as he joined Tellan by his side.

Tellan let out a deep sigh as he continued to watch the boy. What he had originally sensed in him had been confirmed by blood tests and his potential with the Force was promising. "Yes. It will only grow harder the longer we wait now." He folded his arms into his robes. The prospect of stealing a child from his ailing mother had now passed. "She seems to have recovered her strength and I believe I have her trust." He paused as his gaze narrowed on Ni'dalé. "I just hope she makes the right choice for the boy." Even with the careful steps he had taken, he couldn't be sure of how she would react once asked.

La'nae sniffled as she swiped at the rolling tears on her cheek. No matter how hard she tried to contain them, they continued to fall. She stared out the window, watching her son run playfully in circles around a stranger she hardly knew.

"I just don't understand. Why wouldn't I be able to see him?" Her instinct to chase the Jedi from the room needed to be calmed once more.

She could hear the weariness in Tellan as he drew a deep breath from his seat beside her on the bed. "Attachment is a dangerous thing for a Jedi. Your desire to see him is natural, and he would want the same. That love, however, can lead down a dangerous path." La'nae pursed her lips as more tears escaped her. "Possessiveness, fear, pain, and anger. These things could destroy him. For his own good..." La'nae braced herself for his next words. "You would never be able to see him again."

La'nae pressed her eyes closed as she felt her heart sink in her chest. She took a steadying breath, a swell of defiance growing within her. "And what if I refuse to give him to you?"

"Then the galaxy could be all the poorer for it," Tellan said sincerely as she felt his hand on hers. "Ni'dalé has inside him a capacity for good that could change worlds for the better. I don't believe that his discovery by us was a coincidence." La'nae continued to stare out the window at the serene beauty of the world beyond the playground. "His life here on Chandrila with you would be safe, and you would have each other, but could you live with knowing what he could have been?"

Her mind pulled in two directions. Could she really give up her future for just an idea of what may come? She imagined all the years of watching him grow tall, finding his voice, his shoulders broadening, knowing he was safe and happy. But the Jedi's words continued to pull at the threads of her conscience. Who could he become if she let him go? Would he even still be breathing were it not for a Jedi?

She pressed her palms against her face to push back the tears. The sharp burn in her chest began to give way to a looming hollow pit. "I want... to at least say goodbye." She knew she couldn't keep him from this destiny.

Tellan patted her hand and she heard his communicator blip on. "Suraj, bring the boy inside."

"Yes, Master." The quick response undercut the weight of what she had set in motion. A tide of dread rose within her, fast and unstoppable. She watched as Suraj picked up Ni'dalé and carried him out of sight. A few desperate sobs shook her as she tried to prepare herself for what was to come. Any second now, she'd have to look into his beautiful yellow eyes, hold his tiny hands, and tell him what she didn't want to say.

"You're making the right choice." It helped, if only a little. "Let your love speak to him and the words will come." She knew he was right, but how could she find the words to replace a lifetime of a mother's love? Of a culture her son might never learn?

The door creaked open and Suraj entered the room carrying Ni'dalé. He brought him to the bed, and set him down beside her. She immediately gathered him close to her and ran her cheek across the budding horns on his head. She was trying to burn an image of everything about him into her memory. She could at least hold on to that.

She barely noticed the two Jedi leave the room.

"Ni'dalé... my little warrior."

She squeezed him one last time before setting him back down on the bed. She lifted his chin, guiding his eyes to hers.

"You will always be my son. No matter where they take you, or who you become. That can never change."

She leaned down and closed her eyes as she pressed her forehead against his.

"Kammar lagan va cufani rihil."

She tried to make the moment stretch as long as she could, but the door clicked open all too soon.

"It's time, La'nae," Tellan said plainly. He stepped forward and picked Ni'dalé up. She let his hands slip from hers. She followed his eyes as the Jedi carried him away from her life through the doorway forever.

Only the distant hum of medical droids and shifting feet down the hallway remained.

Chapter Text

The patter of hurried feet echoed through the halls of the Temple like rain on a durasteel roof. Younglings darted through the ancient walkways, their reflections dancing along with them in the polished floors. Jedi Knights gave way as they saw the clamoring herd approach, some shaking their heads as they passed, others chuckling. They spilled out of the hall and into a large circular salle. The marble floor was adorned with three rings of obsidian, one inside the other. The roof was supported by six ornate stone pillars that blended the white marble floor up to the brown lacquered wood ceiling. Between each of the pillars was the bustling cityscape of Coruscant. The children darted off around the open space as Master Rylan stepped out of the hall behind them.

"Younglings, prepare for lightsaber instruction," his voice was loud enough to rise above the laughter and the breeze shifting through the treetops outside the salle. His folded arms were his normal signal that it was time to quiet down and prepare for the day's lesson. Slowly the laughter faded. It was replaced by the routine cascade of soft clicks as the younglings gathered closer and pulled their lightsabers from their belts and tunics.

"Good, I see we're eager to learn today," Rylan declared while nodding towards them. "We'll continue our work on Form I Shii-Cho. I want to see proper guards established and balanced strikes. Find partners and spread out across the room," he illustrated with a flourish of his hands above their heads.

Ni'dalé glanced side to side as pairings quickly formed between friends. He approached a Twi'lek girl who grabbed a human boy by the wrist and scampered away, dragging both the boy and her bobbing lekku behind her. It truly was the same routine again today.

A Rodian boy passed by and shook his head at Ni'dalé. The Rodion's disdain had become a familiar thing that could be read clearly despite his emotionless eyes.

"I'm not looking to get stabbed, Hornhead," he sneered before pairing with a Kel Dor child.

Ni'dalé rubbed the wrist of his lightsaber hand as he shuffled towards the edge of the training area. His shoulders fell as he sighed. Master Rylan had told him many times that this phase would pass, but it didn't help the way he felt. He tightened his grip on his training saber and steadied himself as he raised it into guard position. Practicing at least gave him something to focus his thoughts on.

"I don't got a partner yet," a gentle voice proclaimed from somewhere across the crowd. Ni'dalé looked back and saw a green Mirialan boy staring up at Master Rylan.

"Oh, well let's see," Rylan scanned across the room. He caught Ni'dalé's gaze before he could turn away.

Please don't send him over here. I'm fine on my own.

"Ah, Ni'dalé! Spar with Etto." He patted the boy on the back, steering him towards the edge of the training area.

The boy brushed the hair from his forehead and hurried over to Ni'dalé. Ni'dalé groaned as he prepared himself for the inevitable.

He's going to get one close look at me and…

The boy planted his feet and wiped the hair from his blue eyes once more.

"Hi, I'm Etto Zoowan," he extended his hand chest-high. Ni'dalé stared at the hand jutted out towards his face. This was something new. Usually the other younglings would keep their distance at first. He swallowed hard before wrenching his hand over awkwardly to return the greeting.

"I'm Ni'dalé Semca," he lowered their hands together as he shook.

"Sorry if I'm not too good, I just got here liiiiiike 3 days ago." he looked down, fidgeting with his practice saber, hair dangling across his eyes again.

NI'dalé could tell Etto was on edge. Maybe he could help him calm down a bit.

"That's alright, just try your best." Ni'dalé peeked behind Etto at Master Rylan. He had his back turned. "The training sabers don't hurt that bad. They just sting a little," he whispered. He tapped his training saber against the arm of his tunic leaving a small black smudge. He gritted his teeth a moment before rolling up his sleeve to show Etto. "See, didn't even go through."
Etto's hair flipped back as he raised his head to examine Ni'dalé's unblemished brown skin.

"Oh, ok! That's not so bad," Etto sighed.

"Do you wanna try sparring?" Ni'dalé's words rushed out of his mouth. His partners would usually have run off by now to join another group.

"Yeah!" Etto raised his lightsaber and shifted it back and forth before settling on a position. "Start like this, right?"

Ni'dalé quickly raised his blade into guard. "Yeah, that's it. Now try swinging at me." He could hardly keep his hands steady as he waited to start.

Etto leaned his upper body forward and flicked his wrists. Ni'dalé swatted the limp attempt aside forcefully and Etto's lightsaber clattered onto the ground.

"Whoops," Etto exclaimed as he scurried across the floor to retrieve it. Nearby Younglings turned and giggled. Etto picked up his lightsaber and returned to his starting position. Ni'dalé noted each of the giggling children. He tried to push them from his mind before turning back to training.

Everyone had to start somewhere and he wasn't going to begrudge Etto for being new.

"Try to hold the grip a little harder from now on." Ni'dalé raised his lightsaber back to guard position. "Now, I'll swing at you." He'd try to be a bit more gentle this time.

"Okayyyy," Etto's voice dragged as he shifted his blade upward.

Ni'dalé pulled his lightsaber back over his shoulder and arced over his head and downwards in front of him as he stepped. Etto flailed his hands up to meet it. The blades clashed with a zap and Etto fell backwards. His lightsaber tumbled away again as he hit the floor with a thud.

"Oof," he huffed as even more heads turned to laugh.

Master Rylan's voice came from the far side of the room as he clapped. "Focus on your training." He scanned the room for the source of the commotion.

Ni'dalé extinguished his lightsaber and clipped it to his belt. He walked past the fallen Etto towards the other younglings. He approached the Rodian boy who was still laughing at Etto. The boy's joy died down as he saw Ni'dalé approach.

"Told you he's too dangerous to spar with," he poked the Kel Dor child with an elbow as he motioned to Ni'dalé.

Ni'dalé stopped in front of them and looked each of them in the eye. All the things he wanted to yell at them were on the tip of his tongue, but it wouldn't help anything. Instead, he shook his head and scoffed before brushing past between them. He leaned down and wrapped his hand around Etto's lightsaber before pacing back to his side. Etto was still sitting on the floor, hanging his head when Ni'dalé stretched out his hand.

"You just need to work on your footing," Ni'dalé smiled. "I can show you."

Etto wiped the hair from his brow and hoisted himself up with Ni'dalé's help.

Ni'dalé handed him back his lightsaber before stepping beside him and swinging his own up as it flashed on. If Etto wanted to learn, he'd show him everything he knew.

"Alright, what you need to do next time is this…"

Chapter Text

The steady drone of rushing water rose up to the ceiling of the grand chamber. Stone walkways curved away from the center of the room and elevated up to meet each other again on the second floor. Light filtered down from the ceiling and illuminated a grand fountain that stood encircled by the rising granite paths. Water cascaded down from its peak, throwing sunlight against the uniform oval pillars that lined the upper floor's outer wall. Childish laughter rang out from the shadows beyond the fountain.

"Ok, your turn to ask," Etto chuckled.

"Alright," Ni'dalé craned his neck in circles. He already knew his question, but it was more fun to draw it out. "Who do you thiiiiink is the best with a lightsaber?"

"Oh, that's an easy one," Etto scoffed. "Master Windu certainly."

Ni'dalé pursed his lips to one side before he spoke. Master Windu's talent was undeniable, everyone knew he was one of the best there was. Ni'dalé just wasn't convinced that he was the best though.

"I dunno. What about Master Yoda?"

"Master Yoda is incredible," Etto nodded. "But Master Windu is the best, I heard it was because of how good he is that they made him a council member to begin with!"

"Woah," Ni'dalé gasped. Etto had really fallen in love with talking about all the Masters in the Temple and the things he'd find out about them always amazed Ni'dalé.

"Ok, you ask next."

Etto scratched his chin. "Who do you think is… .the funniest?"

Ni'dalé grinned. "How could I know? I've never spoken to any of them and they're always in meetings or doing other important things. They probably don't tell many jokes." He'd always pictured the life of Council members as terribly complicated and busy.

Etto giggled. "Hmmm, you're probably right. Just guess then."

Ni'dalé snorted as he began to speak. "Master Poof." The answer slipped out faster than he expected.

They both snickered at the suggestion.

"Do you think his neck ever gets tired holding his head so high?" Etto stretched his own neck out and rubbed it as it strained.

"No," Ni'dalé rebuked. "Quermians don't get tired necks. You better be careful what you say or he'll cast a spell on you."

"A spell?" Etto's voice rose. "What do you mean by a spell?"

"Master Poof knows all sorts of rare Force techniques." Ni'dalé's voice lowered. "They say he can make you see anything he wants. He could make you think a Rancor is stomping towards you ready to eat you!" Ni'dalé stamped his feet back and forth like a lumbering beast.

"No way." Etto protested as he fidgeted with his hands while watching Ni'dalé.

"It's definitely true," Ni'dalé said with a final stomp of his foot. He looked towards Etto and squinted. He could see Etto squirming and wanted to push him a little further. "Who do you think is the scariest?" he lurched towards Etto with his fingers curled.

"Stop it," Etto cried as he pulled away.

Ni'dalé chuckled as he sat back against the fountain, satisfied with the reaction. "You still have to answer."

Etto sighed. "Fine," he scanned across the shadows near them before cupping a hand around his mouth. "Have you ever seen Master Rancisis?"

Ni'dalé leaned closer to Etto. "Not yet, who is he?"

"He's a Thissp… Thisspipsan… a giant snake!" Etto rasped.

Ni'dalé leaned back and rolled his eyes. He wasn't about to fall for one of Etto's jokes. "You're making that up. Why would a giant snake be on the Council?"

"Well, he's not all snake. He's got a giant tail though. And four arms too. And giant puffy white hair that covers his face. And then burning red eyes that he stares at people with right before wrapping them up in his tail and choking them!" Etto wrapped his hand around his neck.

Ni'dalé coughed. The image of a scaly tail around his throat suddenly becoming all too real in his head. "Ask something else, ask something else!"

Etto smirked as he watched Ni'dalé. "Hmmm, ok. Who do you think is the bravest?"

Ni'dalé looked away as he rubbed the back of his head. Another question where the answer came quickly, but this time he truly didn't want to share it. "Nah, you'll think it's dumb."

Etto leaned forward to try to see Ni'dalé's face. "Naw, come on. I wanna hear."

Ni'dalé pressed his mouth into his shoulder as he spoke. Maybe Etto would let him move on to the next question if he just gave him something. "Eeff Koff"

"What?" Etto turned his ear trying to hear him more clearly.

Ni'dalé pulled his mouth from his shoulder and repeated himself. "Eeth Koth!"

Etto leaned back. "Oh, why are you embarrassed about that? He's a Zabrak like you, right?"

Ni'dalé nodded as he turned his head back to stare at the wall. He'd never shared how much he had learned about Master Koth with anyone before. "He's from Iridonia too. They gave him a spot on the Council two years after I moved here when I was five. I see him walking the halls sometimes and he always gets stopped by people that want to talk to him." The thought gave Ni'dalé some comfort. "He's not as wise as Master Yoda, or as good with a light saber as Master Windu, but he never backs down from anything without a fight. He's the bravest there is. I hope I can be a Jedi like him someday." He'd thought it many times before, but Etto was the first person to ever hear him say it out loud.

Etto smiled as he watched Ni'dalé "Yeah, someday."

They sat in the shadows a while, letting the gentle flow of water fill in the silence. Ni'dalé stared up at the ceiling, his head full of a mix of magic, warriors, and what the future might hold. All the thoughts made richer by the simple joy of having a friend to share them with.

"Come on," Ni'dalé scrambled to his feet. "We'll never become Knights if we sit around all day just talking about it."

Etto grinned as he stood. "Yeah, you're right... race you to the training hall!" Etto took off running around the fountain.

"Hey, wait up!" Ni'dalé chased after him. "You better not take my training saber!"

Chapter Text

Ni'dalé gawked upward at the towering stone blocks. They seemed to stretch along the central walkway endlessly on both levels of the great hall, nearly touching the peaked ceiling on the second floor. Their oaken shelves carried an ominous blue glow from the countless holobooks that sat upon them. Every time he visited the Archives he felt overwhelmed by its scale. He'd once tried to count how many holobooks there were just in the main atrium, but gave up when he reached the thousands after only a few rows. His gaze followed along the titles of the shelf nearest to him before Master Rylan's voice broke the silence.

"Younglings, gather round," he stood at the head of the long oval table, his palm resting flat on its weathered stone slab top. "I have a surprise for you today."

Murmurs spread amongst the younglings filtering into place along the table's edges. Fingertips drummed silently against its surface and Ni'dalé settled against its corner near Etto. He hoped that they might be going even deeper into the Archives today. Maybe even to see the restricted Holocron Vault.

"I sure hope it isn't another culture assignment," Etto groaned.

"Nobody forced you to pick Bothan clan history," Ni'dalé smirked while remembering Etto's endless complaints as the deadline loomed closer and closer.

"I thought there'd be more shady stuff." One of Etto's more common criticisms during his research. "I didn't know they had millions of clans filled with millions of people," his eyes rolled and he dipped his head with each word.

"Quiet now," Master Rylan rapped his palm and the whispers died down. "Good. As I said, today we have a surprise. A special visitor has agreed to take time from his busy schedule to be with us here. I want you to give him your full attention." Rylan turned and yielded the head of the table. "Master Koth."

Eeth Koth glided forward from among the nearby shelves, his arms folded in his dark brown robes. Ni'dalé's pulse quickened and his mouth fell slightly agape. This was beyond what he could have hoped for. An opportunity to learn directly from Master Koth himself. Koth's black hair fell behind his white horns and gathered into braided tips in front of either shoulder. The subtle grey tattoos on his tan skin crinkled under his smile.

"Thank you, Master Rylan," he nodded from the head of the table. "Hello, class. I'm happy to be with you here today." He looked down one side of the table and back up the other. "I've seen some among you wandering these halls before," his eyes lingered near Ni'dalé's corner.

Ni'dalé froze in place. Was he looking at me?

"These archives have stood for a thousand years." He began to walk around the students. "Countless Jedi have stood around this very table as they read from the books that still sit on these shelves today." The thought looped in Ni'dalé's mind. The books he had been reading felt even grander to him now. What Jedi had held the same stories as him? What amazing things did they see and do in their time? "Their contents are believed by some to hold the entirety of galactic history." He paused, watching the heads wander around the room. Ni'dalé's remained fixed on him. "A thousand years," he continued. "Few among us can grasp the weight of such a long stretch of time. Let alone the enormity of the experiences of those who lived through it." He wandered toward the shelves. "However, we must strive to find meaning in this ocean of knowledge," his voice fell deeper. The glowing shelves painted his skin with a soft blue hue. "There are countless lessons waiting for you to discover here and I'd like to give you a challenge." He turned back towards the group. Ni'dalé's body tensed. He was ready for whatever test Master Koth would give them. "Each of you are to find for me a story. One that you believe has an important lesson for all of us. We'll then gather back here and share in the wisdom you've found."

The Younglings turned amongst each other and around the room, their voices beginning to rise.

Master Koth waved a hand from behind his robes. "Go on then," his tone rose and his smile returned.

The children scattered in all directions. They immediately began pulling books from shelves, flipping through pages, and peering at the words inside. Ni'dalé rushed along the lower level of the archive, reading the contents of the shelves he passed. He knew exactly what he was looking for, he just had to find it. Etto trailed close behind, staring at the ceiling.

"Hmmm, I could look for something on lightsaber construction, or maybe Coruscant's founding." He looked down from the ceiling and watched Ni'dalé striding along the shelves. "Do you know what you're going to use?"

Etto's words didn't slow him for a moment. "Yup, I know just the thing," he turned abruptly and kneeled beside one of the shelves. His finger ran along the holobooks before landing in place.

This is just the one to show him I know our culture.

"Garen, the Brave," he proclaimed, swinging the cover up for Etto to read. He turned the book back towards himself and ran his hand over the words. "He was a legendary Zabrak who helped end a massive war between tribes on Iridonia 500 years ago." Master Koth would have to know who he was.

Etto leaned down and looked at the title again. "Yeah, that's a good one," he sighed. "I'm sure Master Koth will be impressed. I gotta go find something before I'm late." He trudged away further into the archives.

Ni'dalé gathered the book into the crook of his arm and started back towards the group. He came to the head of the aisle and stopped. The smile on his face faded and he began to scan the room. There were a few other younglings nearby reading books, but nothing odd stood out to him. So why was he suddenly feeling so on edge? His search wandered to the ceiling above the second floor and he caught a glimpse of something. A slender, pointed shadow wavered there for a moment before slipping out of sight beyond the railing.

Is someone up there? 

He leaned back to try and follow the shadow, but he couldn't see any more from where he stood. Then, a strange sensation came upon him. As if a soft blanket had been cast across his shoulders on a cold winter day. The feeling almost seemed to encourage his curiosity, like a gentle push. He looked back toward the other younglings, but he was alone. All he could focus on now was the nearby staircase to the upper level.

Ni'dalé eased towards the stairs and gripped the smooth wooden railing, his fingertips barely reaching across its width. One foot after the other, he exhaled carefully with each step. He stretched his gaze up to the landing, trying to gather some kind of information before he committed himself to the investigation. Only the distant sounds of his classmates from down the stairs could be heard. Still measuring each step, he hoisted himself the rest of the way up. The walkway stretched far into the distance along with the cascading shelves. There were so many rows where anything could be hiding. The source of the pointed shadow was just ahead of him now as he crept towards it. He had to see what was there. The chilled stone of the last corner pressed against his cheek and his single eye examined the scene from floor to ceiling. Only neatly sorted books and the soft light through the railing beyond them were there to greet him. He stepped to the middle of the walkway and furrowed his brow with a sigh. Whatever he had seen, it had left already and only a mild sense of disappointment remained.

He glanced across everything a second time, hoping to find some hint of what had drawn him there. His head cocked to the side as one thing did stand out among the order. He set down *Garen, the Brave* on a stone pedestal before inspecting closer. A book dangled from its place at the end of the aisle, peeking out at him. Ni'dalé's fingers grazed its binding and it fell into his hand. It was almost as if it had been waiting for his arrival. He rotated it to its cover.

"The Loss of Tanalorr," he whispered. It wasn't a story he was familiar with. He opened the book and began to read.

Chapter Text

The younglings had gathered back around the great table, each holding their own holobook nearby. A Rodian boy held his book up to his face. He squinted at the fine type as he labored in monotone.

"...exposing the plot brought the Eiram and E'ronoh people together against their common enemy." He finished reading and looked to Master Koth.

"Well presented, Weeskee," Koth offered. "Now, what was the lesson to be learned from this tale?" Koth folded his arms as he assessed the Rodian.

Etto looked to the empty place by the corner of the table as Weeskee's voice carried on presenting his theory. The cover of the holobook before him flicked up and down under his thumb. His head jerked up as Ni'dalé appeared, bounding down the stairs from the second level. Weeskee's voice cut off and he glared at the interruption.

"We'd feared the archives had swallowed you whole, young one," Koth smirked as he feigned deep concern. 

“Sorry, Master.” The horror of having interrupted the class dawned on him. He had completely lost track of time. He paused near the edge of the room, bracing for a lectured word. 

Koth simply gestured to the empty place beside Etto before turning back to Weeskee. "Please, continue." 

Ni’dalé hurried to his spot, feeling the stares of the other younglings burning into him along the way. He settled near Etto and Weeskee finally continued to drone on.

"Where were you?" Etto whispered. "Do you have your book?"

Ni'dalé flopped the holobook on the table. He couldn’t wait to share it with someone. "I found this one upstairs. It's even better than the one I was going to bring," he pushed it towards Etto.

Etto turned the book. "What the heck is Tanalorr? The one about Gragnor seemed great."

Ni'dalé sighed. "It's Garen, and Tanalorr's a planet the Jedi used to…"

Master Rylan stepped close behind the boys. They both turned to look up at him, finding a finger pressed against his lips as he stared at them.

Ni'dalé gulped as he turned back around. The last thing he wanted was to earn a reprimand from Master Rylan as well. 

Weeskee finished his thought and Master Koth approached him.

"Thank you, Weeskee. A valuable lesson for us all," Koth praised. Weeskee laid his holobook down and grinned. "Now, who will be next?" Koth looked across the table and his gaze fell on Ni'dalé. "You seem to have brought a story you're quite excited for. What is your name?"

Ni'dalé tensed. Master Koth felt almost too real to him now. His hand scrambled blindly to find his holobook again, only finding it when Etto slid it back into his hand.

"Uh… Ni'dalé, Master. Semca," he stammered.

"Nice to meet you, Ni'dalé, but I am Master Koth," his teasing comment inspired giggles around the table.

He felt his cheeks go warm, but he didn’t let the embarrassing moment deter him. Ni'dalé smiled as he looked down to the holobook and picked it up. 

"Sorry, Master Koth. I'm Ni'dalé Semca." The giggles began to die down.

"Alright, Ni'dalé Semca. Share with us what you've found," he folded his arms once more.

Ni'dalé cleared his throat. This was his chance to show Master Koth, an actual council member, who he was. 

"It's a story about this place called Tanalorr," Ni'dalé opened the holobook. "A long time ago, a Jedi Knight named Dagan Gera discovered it," he glanced at the open book before continuing. "It was actually an accident when he did. He was trying to find a way through this dangerous nebula when he found it." Ni'dalé turned the holobook forward and pointed to a picture of Gera's ship approaching an ominous cloud in space. He dragged his finger across the book, turning the image to one of a picturesque planetscape. "It was a beautiful planet where the Force was easy to feel. There were all sorts of plants, mountains, and blue oceans. The Order even built a temple there!" his voice rose. He turned the book back towards his chest. "But then something called the Nihil came. The Knights tried to fight it off, but they had to abandon the planet," he frowned. "Nobody has ever been back since and nobody even knows how to get there anymore," he looked up from the book at Master Koth who was now rubbing his chin.

"Hmmm, this is a story of a sad time for the Jedi Order," Koth began. "Our own Master Rancisis was there you know? Almost 200 years ago when the Nihil Empire attacked and the Council ordered the evacuation of Tanalorr. He had gone to assess the Temple before the invasion happened." Ni'dalé's grip tightened around the edges of the book. The image of a giant, four armed snake swirled in his mind as Master Koth began to round the table towards him. "Dark times can often lead to important lessons. Which did you take from this one?" He stopped well short of Ni'dalé.

Ni'dalé shifted his shoulders before speaking. The story itself had been the only thing he had thought about since finding the book. He blurted out the first thing that came to mind. "It reminds me of the dangers of attachment, Master."

Koth narrowed his eyes as he clasped his hands behind his back. "Go on."

"Well…" Ni'dalé took a breath before he began. He stared down at the book in his arms, searching for the right words. "Tanalorr seemed like a really nice place. Or, it sounded like somewhere I'd want to go at least," he smirked before continuing in a lowered voice. "I bet a lot of the Jedi didn't want to leave, but they might have died if they didn't. They had to let go of something they loved…” His throat tightened for a moment as his own words lingered in his ear. He recollected himself before finishing his thought. “Who knows what else they wouldn't have been able to do in the future if they didn't." Ni'dalé fell quiet and his eyes drifted beyond the book.

"Thank you, Ni'dalé." Master Koth pivoted slowly to return to the head of the table. "More words that we all might find wisdom in," his voice rose to address each of the younglings. He spun towards the class as he returned to his place. "Now, who is next?" He glanced across the room before settling on a Kel Dor child. "What did you find for us?"

Ni'dalé took a deep breath and placed his book on the table while the presentations continued.

“That was great!” Etto gave him a reassuring poke with his elbow. The kind words helped the tension leave his shoulders. 

“Thanks.” The story, lesson and presentation all fit together satisfyingly as he played things back in his mind. Only one dangling thread remained that tugged at his thoughts, dragging his gaze back to the ceiling above the second floor.

Chapter Text

Ni'dalé yawned and rolled in his bed. His cheek brushed against a warm section of his pillow and his eyes snapped open. He blinked at the sunlight filtering in through the window and a grin spread on his lips and he pressed himself up. It was another day and that meant what he had been waiting so long for might finally happen.

"Get up!" he shouted, rapping his fist on the bunk above him. He flung himself upwards, his horns scraping across the underside of the bunk. He inhaled sharply and ran his thumb across a fresh gouge among many in the varnish. He gingerly tapped the wreath of eight points that decorated the crown of his head. It was hard to get used to how long they had become over the years. 

"Would you go back to sleep?" Etto groaned from the top bunk. His head poked above the bedrail and he squinted out the window. "The sun is barely up." He collapsed back against his pillow.

Ni'dalé grabbed onto the bunk rail and pulled himself up to look at Etto. He had rolled over and pinned his pillow against his ears. 

"Yeah, but today is the day!" Ni’dalé sprang off the bed to the floor.

Etto rolled onto his back and sighed while staring at the ceiling. "You've been saying that every morning for months." He thrust his arms upwards, flexing his fingers before letting them fall back beside him.

Ni'dalé leapt back up to the bunk rail. "Yeah, but today is really the day." He dropped back to the center of the room again. Etto was always grumpy in the morning and he wasn’t going to let it deter his excitement. He stretched his arms over his head. His shoulders had begun to fill in and he could almost reach the ceiling if he jumped. "Master Koth was at sparring practice again last week and he still doesn't have a Padawan." It had been months since their lesson in the Archives, but he just knew that Master Koth had been impressed with him.

Rustling came from another bunk. "Are you still going on about Master Koth?" Weeskee scoffed while sitting up. "Can you believe this, Das?"

The Kel Dor boy leaned his head out over the railing above Weeskee. "He's just excited," Das replied. He looked down at Ni'dalé through his mask. "You'll get picked eventually, just relax."

"Yeah, picked for a farming assignment," Weeskee needled. "You're the oldest left in our clan now, aren't you?"

Ni'dalé grit his teeth and pulled a fresh tunic over his head. Weeskee was right. He had watched as other younglings were chosen by a Jedi Master to begin training as a Padawan. He had seen many more have to give up their dreams over the years and move on to placement within the Service Corps. That fate was still at least a couple years away, but it loomed in his mind nonetheless. 

 "That doesn't matter, and they don't send younglings to become farmers at my age." Ni'dalé flung his dirty clothes into the hamper. Weeskee’s taunts weren’t going to go unanswered today. "Besides, I'm not the one who dropped stones on Master Rylan's foot during Force exercises. If anyone's going to the farms it's you." 

Das snickered and Weeskee threw a pillow at him.

"Nobody's going to the farms," Etto interjected. "And the Service Corps isn't a punishment. They do important things all over the galaxy." The room fell silent. Etto flopped back into his bed and rolled towards the wall.

Ni'dalé scowled at Weeskee and left the room. At least he had the last word between the two of them today.

Ni'dalé was the first into the commons area. The Temple's architecture kept the room in shadow until midday, so it remained cool and dark. The dark blue walls only deepened the effect. He shivered as he paced across the matte red tile. The padding of his bare feet thumped against the silence. Ni'dalé sank into one of the tan leather couches and stared out across the waking Coruscant cityscape. The leafy green plants at the edges of the window offered the only sense of nature to the picture. He tried to steady his emotions, but he couldn’t shake the rotten feeling in his stomach. A hiss came from the dorm's entrance followed by leather soles on tile.

"You're up early," Master Rylan said. He sat at the other end of the sofa, draping his arm across the back with one leg crossed over the other. "Excited for something in particular?"

Ni'dalé shook his head. He knew it was pointless, but he tried to lie anyway. "I just couldn't sleep is all. Weeskee was snoring too loud." He at least entertained himself a bit with the fib.

Rylan narrowed his eyes on Ni'dalé. "Mind your feelings, Ni'dalé." He leaned forward and rested his elbows on his knees. "What's bothering you?"

Ni'dalé sighed as he slouched down on the sofa. Master Rylan’s perception was inescapable.  "I just… I don't know why I haven't been chosen to become a Padawan yet." Saying the words out loud didn’t help. It just made the hurt he felt rise to the surface. He stared down at his tunic and pulled at a loose thread in an attempt to distract himself from his next thought. It spilled out anyway. "Have I done something wrong, Master Rylan?" He shifted his eyes to him.

Rylan tapped his thumbs together and stared at Ni'dalé. "You've done everything that could be asked of you, Ni'dalé." He steadied his hands. "It just takes time for a path to find some of us."

Ni'dalé turned his head back to the window as a tear squeezed past his eyelid. Patience. The lesson he tried to remind himself of whenever he started to feel this way. He allowed himself to fail at it again for now.

"I know," he sniffled. "I just didn't think it would take this long."

Rylan watched Ni'dalé wipe his face and then he spoke. "All you can do is keep being yourself. If it's meant to be then you won't have to wait much longer." He stood and walked to Ni'dalé's side. He patted him on the back and rubbed a circle between his shoulders. "You're a good student and I believe you would make a fine Padawan for any Master. Try to keep your head up." He walked back toward the bunk room doors and began to knock on each one. "Time to get up, it's another day!" The groans and protests of waking younglings met Rylan's command.

Ni'dalé watched the skyway as the endless vehicles sped by. Each one carrying someone to where they needed to go while he remained in place. "Another day," he sighed.

Chapter Text

Robed Knights strolled amongst the massive pillars of the Temple's grand hall. Each pillar supported an intersection of stone slab arches that met the high ceilings. The columns repeated outward in even rows from either side of the walkway. They ended where the walls fell away and opened into daylight. Etto's meandering shadow stretched into the distance, chased by the rising sun that glared across his path.

"Etto, wait up!" Ni'dalé called after him. He jogged to Etto's side and slowed to match his pace. "You weren't at breakfast. Where were you?" He watched Etto stare ahead silently. He could tell something was bothering him and he had a good idea what it was. "Look, I'm sorry I've been a bit annoying lately, and I shouldn't have fought with Weeskee again. I just get really frustrated when he says that stuff about becoming a farmer." He waited for Etto to talk, hoping that he had found the right thing to say.

Etto blinked slowly and exhaled through his nose. "And why would that be so bad?" Etto glared at him. "Not all of us can be Knights, you know." He looked back to the walkway ahead. "Some of us have to deal with that reality and the Service Corps gives people a path that matters. Maybe just as much as any Knight."

Ni'dalé looked away, his face drawn tight.

Not all of us can be knights?

His heart sunk in his chest as he began to realize what the issue actually was. He hadn’t even considered that Etto was feeling the pressure of the future too. The Service Corps was a destiny that awaited the majority of younglings. It was something that was completely out of their control. Hearing others framing that calling as something shameful couldn’t have been easy. Even harder when it was your friend doing it. He began to rub one of the horns on the back of his head. 

"You're right. I shouldn't be looking at that path as a failure." He glanced back toward Etto. "I'm sorry."

Etto continued to drift onward before he closed his eyes and nodded. The two continued on in silence. They passed under the last arch of the grand hall and into one of the Temple's more simple corridors. Ni'dalé leaned his shoulder into Etto's with a light shove.

"We'll still be knights one day though. I'm sure of it." Ni'dalé smiled. He wasn’t about to give up on the dreams they’d shared. Not while they still had time to keep dreaming. 

Etto rolled his eyes while shaking his head, the side of his mouth curling up slightly. "Come on, I want to get settled in for meditation." They rounded a corner and strode towards a set of double doors along the side of the hall. Etto pressed his hand against the flowing etched waves on the door and pushed it open. He stepped inside and held the door open for Ni'dalé.

Ni'dalé stepped close behind, but he stopped as he caught a glimpse of something at the end of the hall. A brown robed figure stood against the wall there, his billowing white hair obscuring his features completely. He clasped a pair of hands in front of him and seemed to have another set of lower sleeves that led behind his back. At the base of his robes was a pile of coiled, green and yellow scales. Ni’dalé froze in the doorway, his mind straining to make sense of what he was seeing. 

"You coming?" Etto said, still holding the door for Ni'dalé.

"Y-yeah," he stammered to Etto. He looked back to where the figure had been, but saw nothing. He must have been imagining it. It had been a stressful day already. He furrowed his brow and stepped into the meditation chamber. The solid thud of the door settling into place behind him echoed in the room.

Master Rylan kneeled at the far end of the open space, centered at one edge of a sprawling red carpet that covered most of the wooden plank flooring. His eyes were closed and his shoulders rose and fell in sync with his long, slow breaths. The walls around the room were lined with large stone arches that peaked halfway between the ceiling and the height of the doorway. The light fixtures angled toward the cream colored ceiling. The reflection showered the room in dim light. The boys toed the edge of the carpet and found a spot to sit at the end near Master Rylan. Etto crossed his legs into a quarter lotus and closed his eyes. Ni'dalé copied the pose, but stared at the door while tapping a finger on his knee. The sight in the hall still troubled him. He shook the image from his head and pressed himself into meditation.

Either alone or in small groups, the other younglings gradually filled in the edges of the carpet. The sounds of shifting feet punctuated by the door's heavy thud announced each arrival. Ni'dalé opened his eyes to assess each face as they entered before falling back into meditation. Once the circle around the room was complete, Master Rylan began to speak.

"Good morning, everyone," he said as he stood.

"Good morning, Master," the younglings responded in chorus. Each face was fixed on him as he began.

"We'll begin today with our steady breathing exercises. Find a position of calm and close your eyes." He watched the younglings settle into place as their soft breathing whispered through the room. Rylan began to pace within the circle. "Excellent. Inhale deeply through your mouth, exhale slowly through your nose.” Ni’dalé began to feel himself steady with each instruction. “Relax your mind along with the rest of your body. Feel the Force flowing around the room and through each of us.” The current within the room eased his nerves even further. His head began to sway with the gentle swells of energy that passed from one student to the next. “Listen to it rise and fall along with your lungs. Let your…" Rylan paused briefly. "Continue your breathing, younglings."

Ni'dalé tried to maintain the rhythm, but each of Rylan's footsteps was like an off-key note breaking his focus. He opened his eyes and looked to the door. The air left his lungs completely. The robed figure from the hall had appeared in the room, but he had no idea when. There wasn’t a footstep, or the slightest groan from the door.

"That's Master Rancisis," Etto whispered as he leaned towards Ni'dalé.

Ni'dalé continued to stare at the ongoing conversation until Rancisis turned towards the room. He slammed his eyes shut and tried to calm his racing heart. Everything Etto had said about him was true. He could feel the blazing red heat of his stare burning a hole through him.

"Ni'dalé Semca." Ni’dalé tried to rationalize that it had been some other name that was just spoken.

He pried his eyes apart and looked up at Master Rylan standing in front of him.

"You are to follow Master Rancisis." Rylan gestured towards the door where the giant snake loomed. His tail was holding him high in the air, like a stretched spring. The tuft of hair at the top of his head nearly cleared the top of the door frame. Ni’dalé could still tell that his eyes were fixed on him despite not being able to see them.

Whispers spread between the younglings as they leaned towards each other and covered their mouths. Ni'dalé gawked at them, still not moving a muscle. He’d learned to stop caring long ago, but now he was desperate to know what they were saying.

"Go, Ni'dalé," Etto shoved him and he snapped back to the moment at hand.

"Right," he blurted as he scrambled to his feet. He looked back and Rancisis had already left. A sudden panic struck him. He ran to the door, pulled it open, and disappeared into the hall.

Chapter Text

Don’t lose him. Don’t lose him.

The pounding in his chest was deafening as he whipped his head back and forth. The same thought kept repeating in his head.

Don’t lose him.

 A glimpse of green scales slipped out of sight beyond the corner at the far end of the hall. He sprinted after them, brushing past the robes of an oncoming knight.

"Excuse me," he shouted back over his shoulder. He rounded the corner, nearly slipping on the polished tiles. Master Rancisis glided along the hallway just ahead, his long tail sashaying behind him. Ni'dalé clamored forward, slowing just short of his side. 

Catch your breath. Stay calm.

He stood up straight and took a deep breath before striding the rest of the way to match Rancisis’s pace. He stared straight ahead as he walked near the opposite wall away from the old Thispiasian. Rancisis said nothing.

Ni'dalé peered at him from the corner of his eye. He was close enough to see his features much more clearly now. His white hair was knotted in a bun above his head with a black tie. It flowed down in waves across his shoulders and face, joining with his beard that nearly reached his belt. His arms were still clasped behind his back above the base of his tail, which stretched far behind him. A pointed shadow danced along with the flicking of its tip. He didn’t stand as tall now as when he was standing still and hoisted up. There was a dignity to the way he moved. Not at all like Ni’dalé was expecting.

"Master Koth tells me that you found a particular book in the Archives." The tufts of hair obscuring his face quivered as he talked. His words ebbed and flowed into the next, some emphasized by a weary rasp. This was the voice of the terrifying image in Ni’dalé’s head?

"Yes, Master Rancisis. The Loss of Tanalorr." Ni'dalé paused. He began to recall what he learned that day. "Master Koth says that you were there once." He leaned forward as he stared at the curly mass of white that still hid his eyes.

"Correct. I was indeed." The words hung in the air before he continued. "Tell me, what do you think of the Council's decision to abandon Tanalorr, knowing now that it may never be found again?"

Ni'dalé's eyes dropped to the tiled floor, following the grout lines seemed to help unravel the words for him. "I guess it makes me sad that nobody might ever see it again, but… it makes me glad that they were still able to make a hard choice that saved lives." He looked back to Rancisis, more sure of the point he was trying to make. "Tanalorr wouldn't have been as great if keeping it meant losing so many Jedi."

"Hmmm," Rancisis nodded slowly. "Some did not see it that way." The long, spindly fingers of one of his hands began to cascade behind his back. "I've spoken with Master Rylan as well. He tells me that you have a curious nature, that you have shown resilience despite your past, and a leaning towards mentoring others." His hand stilled behind his back. "He also tells me that you struggle with confidence, that your eagerness outweighs your patience at times, and that your desire to prove your worth leads you into conflict with some." The frank assessment made Ni’dalé wince. He felt exposed. They’d only just met and this Jedi Master already knew each of his virtues and flaws.

“However,” he stopped and turned, his tail coiled beneath him and his grey eyes fixed on Ni'dalé.  "I am curious to find out which of these traits will come to define you. I sense in you the potential to forge a unique path in life. I would have your mind tempered into one that might someday realize that potential. This is why I have decided to take you on as my Padawan learner."

Ni'dalé blinked as Rancisis continued down the hall. Had he heard him correctly? Pressure began to fill his head and he felt a rush of adrenaline through his body. He bounded after him. He turned to face Rancisis as he shuffled ahead of him backwards. "Master Rancisis, thank you! I know you’re an incredibly busy person so I promise I'll do everything I can to learn from you. I’ll train every day no matter what. And I’ll work hard on the things Master Rylan said I need to improve on, and, and…” His mind raced with a thousand questions, but the most important one burst forth. “When can we start with training?"

Rancisis stopped again and motioned down the hall with each of his right hands.

"We begin immediately."

Ni'dalé spun around ready to take on anything. He was met by a  junction in the hall before them. Each path stretched off into the distance, decorated with large vases. The crisp air wisped across Ni'dalé's face as Rancisis breezed past him and settled into the middle of the 3 paths.  He fought the urge to ask what the lesson would be, but he could hardly contain his excitement.

"Close your eyes, Ni'dalé." Ni'dalé rushed in front of him and closed his eyes. He started to notice how much he was trembling. "I want you to reach out down the halls and tell me what you feel."

He lowered his chin near his chest and tried to picture the junction again in his head. Distant voices and footsteps reached him from the path they had come from, but the halls ahead were silent. The shaking of his hands was the only thing he could feel. He opened an eye slowly to look at Rancisis. "I don't feel anything, Master." A pang of disappointment reached him.

Rancisis folded two arms against his chest, keeping the lower set behind his back and he slithered behind Ni'dalé. "You've been taught that the Force flows through each of us. It connects all living things and through it we can perform great feats. But, what you must learn is that the Force does not simply flow around beings such as you and I. It can be soft, like a flap of an insect's wing. Nearly imperceptible, yet nonetheless important." He leaned forward and placed a hand on Ni'dalé's shoulder. "Try again. This time stretch further. Look for what you believe to not be there."

Ni'dalé closed his eyes again. He inhaled sharply before letting out a slow, relaxed breath. Rancisis's hand pressed against him gently. It helped to steady his nerves and soon his mind fell quiet. He focused on the halls again. Pressing his mind to find what he had missed. The silence around him was suddenly broken by a tug, like a tightened string that had been gently plucked within his temple.

"I feel something… like a pull."

"Good. Very good." Rancisis let go of his shoulder. "Follow it."

Ni'dalé let the feeling steer him to his right. He caught himself with a carefully placed foot. The tug seemed to pivot toward his forehead. He eased himself onward as he held his hands out in front of his hips. Step by step he continued until his knee struck something solid. He winced and drew a quick breath. His hand reached down while he looked for what he had run into. The vase before him wobbled and groaned a moment before rumbling to a stop. His face began to go hot.

You can’t fail your first lesson. He tried to brush the dull ache out of his kneecap.

"You must see more than just what you pursue, young one. Continue."

He thought for a moment, giving the idea time to sink in. "Yes, Master." Ni'dalé let go of his knee and returned to the task. The pull beyond the vase soon returned, but he waited and tried to feel what else was there to be felt. Another sensation began to trickle in. The pull was now accompanied by a pressure that radiated near close by. He stepped away until it faded and he began to drift on. As he moved he felt the same warning skirting by the periphery of his mind, like a subtle push away from each object the pressure clung to. 

Then, something else began to filter into the sensory picture growing in his mind. A warmth coming from behind him that draped across his shoulders. It hovered along as he followed the tiny pull in the distance, encouraging each step forward. He smiled as he realized the source of the familiar presence. 

He wandered farther, chasing the gentle call. It continued to coax him onward until, just as suddenly as it came, it vanished. He opened his eyes and found himself standing in a small room. The grey tile floor was covered by a square red carpet and the walls were made of brown stone slabs. A simple cot with a fleece blanket, white sheets and a grey cotton pillow was against the wall. Across from it was a dark brown wooden desk accompanied by a pine wood chair.

"These will be your new quarters within the Temple Dormitory.” Rancisis slid into the room beside Ni’dalé. “You may request some small alterations if you need, but keep them within reason." He gazed towards the tiny cot. "You may consider a larger bed." The lines near his eyes crinkled.

Ni'dalé stepped further into the room and placed his hand on the desk. "I've never had a room of my own before." The thought nearly overwhelmed him. He had always been glad to have Etto as a bunkmate, but years of sharing a room with three other boys of different species would test even the most patient of people. 

"Use it well, Padawan.” Rancisis moved to the doorway. “I suggest you take some time to meditate. Today has seen much change in your life. You have taken the first steps on a new path and wherever it leads, we now walk it together." Rancisis pulled the door closed silently behind him as he left.

Ni'dalé crept to the handle and slowly turned it. He peered out into the hall and watched Rancisis glide away before turning beyond a corner and passing out of sight. He shut the door again and flopped backwards onto the cot. A tidal wave of emotions washed over him as everything that had happened that day competed for his attention. He rubbed the spaces between his horns as he chuckled to himself with his feet dangling from the bed.

He dropped his hands onto his chest, allowing his head to sink into the pillow and a wide grin spread on his face. "How am I supposed to meditate after all that?"

Chapter Text

Ni’dalé flexed his hands around the grip of his training saber. The padded floor compressed under his steps as he circled the training mat, waiting for his opponent to make the first move. 

Etto lunged forward with a thrust and Ni’dalé pivoted to his right. He slammed his blade down on the attack. A single chirp of plasma against plasma rang out. It had barely died before Ni’dalé pulled his pommel forward above Etto’s shoulder, bringing the hum of his blade to a stop near his throat. Etto extinguished his training sabre and let out a heavy sigh.

“Ni’dalé I’m exhausted.” He pushed the hilt away from his ear and slumped to the floor.

“Come on, just a couple more rounds.” Ni’dalé paced back to his starting position and prepared his guard again. Sparring had become a rare thing for him these days and he was relishing the opportunity.

Etto groaned and laid back on the floor, allowing his arms to go limp by his sides. “We’ve been at it for hours. Let’s at least take a break.”

Ni’dalé chuckled. The drive he’d found for training since Master Rancisis's lessons began was starting to show in his skill. Every free moment he could find between his Master’s often cryptic teachings had been dedicated to perfecting his Shii-cho. He appreciated how much patience Etto had shown despite losing round after round that day to him. 

“Alright, catch your breath.” He turned to an open space in the room and continued to swing against the open air. The techniques he’d learned under Master Rylan flowed as he worked through his footing. He wanted to make sure every motion was as perfect as he could manage.

Etto sat up and began to rub his shoulder. “Is Master Rancisis pushing you to train this hard?”

“No,” he turned and brought his saber down with a final arcing slash before extinguishing it. He leaned down at the edge of the mat and picked up two water canteens and tossed one to his training partner. “We’ve actually barely touched on lightsaber practice.” He wandered over near Etto and dropped to the floor, crossing his legs before taking a deep gulp of cold water. 

Etto gasped as he pulled his canteen from his lips. “What kind of things has he been having you do?” Water dribbled down his chin as he spoke.

“All sorts of things. There’s been a lot more mental training than I expected.” He traced his thumb around the rim of his canteen. “It’s a lot different than with our clan. His lessons are much more brief than Master Rylan’s, but he has this way of saying things.” He squinted while trying to find the right words. “It’s like, he’s testing whether or not I can learn without telling me exactly what he’s trying to teach me.” He leaned back against his hands. “I don’t know. It’s hard to explain.”

“That sounds confusing.” Etto pulled his arm across his body, stretching it out. “I hope my own Master makes things a bit more straightforward if I get chosen.”

“When you get chosen.” He was quick to correct the slightest doubt in Etto’s words. The fervor with which he had been training wasn’t intended for his own benefit alone. Etto had always struggled with a lightsaber from the first day they met. He’d made improvements, though they just weren’t nearly enough yet. 

“Right. When." Etto didn’t sound quite as convinced.

“You’re getting better. Don’t get down on yourself.” He wasn’t sure what it was that was holding Etto back. Granted, he was a couple years younger than Ni’dalé, but his strikes were nowhere close to where his own had been at the same age. It was a good thing that his classwork and Force skills had risen above many of the other students over the years. The thought of where he might be without them was something Ni’dalé didn’t want to consider.

“I know. It’s just hard. Every time I pick up a training saber I get reminded how much more work I have to do.” A sour look crossed his face. “We even have a clan sparring tournament next week.”

As curious as he was, Ni’dalé knew Etto didn’t want to talk about it. 

“How have things been since I left, anyway?” Maybe he could get a sense of how Etto had been holding up otherwise. “I see some of the others around sometimes, but haven’t actually talked to anyone. Not even Master Rylan.” Not having a chance to thank him yet had been bothering Ni’dalé. The years he spent as a youngling had been hard, but they would have been much harder without the advice and guidance he’d been given.

“Mostly the same I guess. Your bunk is still empty. Weeskee has been throwing dirty clothes on it. I think he’s really jealous.” They both laughed. The thought of his antennae twitching with anger was delightful.

“He hasn’t started bothering you now I hope.” Weeskee’s needling felt like such a distant threat now. Imagining Etto having to face it alone was a new kind of worry.

“No, he’s been fine. I mostly just keep to myself anyway. It’s kind of lonely without you to talk to.” Etto took another long sip of water.

His feelings weren’t unexpected. They’d gone from seeing each other every day for more than 5 years to only a handful of visits over the last few months. It was nobody’s fault. It was just the reality of life within the Temple. It demanded that they grow up faster than they might have liked.

“I know what you mean.” The best Ni’dalé could offer was his sympathy. “Having my own room was exciting at first, but it’s so quiet when nobody else is around.” Meditation had helped to fill in much of the isolation, but moments like this were what really helped him manage the sweeping changes to his life. “At least we’re still friends. And who knows, maybe you’ll get a room right down the hall from mine one day.” 

“Yeah, that would be…”

“Padawan Semca.” A deep voice rumbled from across the room, interrupting their conversation. They both turned to see a Temple Guard with his hands clasped together in front of him. “Master Rancisis requires your presence.”

Reality once again came crashing down on them.

“Sorry, I’ve got to go.” Ni’dalé slowly stood. 

“It’s alright.” Etto’s smile faded. “I needed to get ready for study period in the Archives soon anyway. This was a fun afternoon.” 

Ni’dalé clipped his training saber to his belt. “See if Master Rylan can give you your schedule and we can do this again.” He tried to feign a smile, but he knew it might be weeks before they’d both be free at the same time. 

“Yeah. I’ll tell him you’re still training hard too.”

“Thanks, Etto.” He hurried out of the room behind the Temple Guard. 

The silent walk alongside his guide was filled with thoughts of how he could manage his new life. The struggle between holding on to his past and embracing the exciting new changes that had been happening was becoming too much to deal with. He wished things could be more simple than they were, but they were just going to keep getting more complicated from now on.

He looked at the guard as he continued to march onward. His white robes were a symbol of his devotion to the light and the Jedi Order. The mask he wore signified the surrender of his personal glory which had been replaced by his selfless service to others. He started to feel a bit ashamed. He was letting his problems consume his thoughts and that wasn’t going to help anything. Ni’dalé pushed all the worries from his mind and tried to remember the more simple lessons he’d been taught. 

There is no emotion, there is peace.

It helped. 

They came to a chamber door where the guard stopped and motioned for him to enter. He pushed it open and found Master Rancisis waiting for him inside. There was a sense of eagerness about him that struck Ni’dalé immediately.

“Hello, Padawan. I hope you’re ready for today’s lesson.”

Chapter Text

A cacophony of stone rolling against stone, creaking ropes, and humming power emitters filled the chamber. Behind Master Rancisis stood a daunting obstacle course. A tan stone stairway rose to its starting position several feet above a pit of grey sand. Challenge after challenge was laid out in series. Each one completely unique—some offering a clear picture of their difficulty, others appearing far too simple to be trusted. Ni'dalé stepped forward, his head moving back and forth across the shifting and rattling behemoth. The midday sun through the windows cast an array of moving shadows onto the far side of the room.

"I trust that you have not expended too much energy on other pursuits today." Master Rancisis pivoted on his tail to face the course.

Ni'dalé suddenly became intensely focused on the state of each of his muscles. His rapid internal assessment from neck to feet was carried out with a quick shake of his arms and legs. Everything felt as it should. His limbs were light and powerful, his back was straight, and the air in his lungs seemed like it could last an eternity.

"I'm ready, Master. This looks fun!" The opportunity for more physical training had him eager to begin.

"Excellent." Master Rancisis's tone was unusually exuberant. "The course will challenge your agility and perception. It will require strategy, as well as skill, to conquer." Both sets of his arms folded into his robes in front of him. "You'll be given two minutes for each attempt. Failing to reach the goal within this time or falling will require you to start again." He moved aside from the stairway. "Ready to begin?"

Ni'dalé grinned and bounded up the stairs. A sense of awe struck him when he reached their peak. He could now see the entirety of the course. It crossed the width of the chamber, followed along the far wall, then made its way back to the side of the room it began on. There were at least a dozen unique obstacles. He pushed the rest of the course from his mind and turned his focus to the first in his path.

Just keep it simple, don't get ahead of yourself.

There was a narrow, square balance beam that stretched out some twenty feet. A series of pendulums swung side to side across the precarious walkway. They moved with no clear rhythm. Predicting a safe path seemed impossible. Ni'dalé exhaled sharply, watching the padding on the first pendulum while awaiting the command to start.

"Begin!"

He stepped forward, approaching the balance beam. His footing immediately gave way beneath him. His leg buckled. He drove his other foot onto the beam to catch his weight. He looked back at his first step as he clamored forward. The platform he had stepped on rattled. Its four square sections chattering against each other, mocking him.

Houfh!

The first pendulum struck with a thud against his ribs, driving the air from his lungs. A momentary sensation of weightlessness was quickly replaced by the flexing of his upper body as he prepared to hit the ground. His shoulder took the brunt of the impact, sinking into the sand. The rest of his body flopped down. Pain spread across his body. He winced and groaned, waiting for the competing aches to dull. He rolled onto his back, an eye pinched closed to keep the sand clinging to his cheek and forehead out. The pendulums continued to swing overhead while he brushed his face clean and spat tiny granules of earthy grit from his mouth.

"One must be sure of their first step before leaping into the fray."

Master Rancisis's words felt more like a taunt than advice. The course's first lesson was obvious now and didn't need to be stated.

"Up. Back to the start." Master Rancisis continued with his cheerful tone.

The pain in Ni'dalé's side had mostly passed and he pressed himself up. He shook the sand from his tunic and answered without meeting his gaze.

"Yes, Master." He marched to the stairway and climbed back to the first obstacle. This time, he examined the platform before him. Its segments were seamless.

"Begin!"

He reached forward with his toes and tapped the corner of the platform. One of the four segments began to wobble. He examined how it moved and looked to the one next to it. A measured step forward found its center and supported his shifting weight. The tendons in his ankle flexed and moved in balance with the wavering surface. He began to watch the pendulums.

Now

A swift leap to the balancing beam carried him past the first swinging mass. He hurried forward. The rush of air behind him from the second brushed his neck. The third quickly caught his right hip, sending him off balance into the fourth that struck his arm from the left. He twisted downwards. A desperate grasp of his left hand held him to the beam only a moment before his leg scraped off and he fell back to the sand.

He landed feet first this time and managed to keep himself clean.

Progress at least. I just need to be a bit…

"Swift action can be the path to success when facing overwhelming odds. Back to the start."

Ni'dalé gritted his teeth. The needling advice had interrupted his thought.

"I agree, Master." He quickly pivoted and ascended the steps once more. The sting of a fresh scrape on his leg throbbed as he stared ahead.

"Begin!"

Balance, leap, step, step, st—SMACK

He crashed again into the sand.

"Proper footing must be tempered with awareness. Up! Back to the start."

Find your footing, time the swings.

Balance, leap, step quickly, watch the—ARGH

"Eagerness to succeed will often lead to more rapid failure. Up. Back to the start."

Over and over the cycle continued.

The natural light filling the room grew orange and dull.

Ni'dalé stood again before the beginning of the course. Sand filled his clothing. Scrapes and bruises were littered across his body.

"Begin!"

He lurched forward, tripping against the wobbling platform. His chest struck the balance beam before he cascaded to the sand once more. The sand cradled his head while he lay there, panting. The sting of failure was soon to be met again with the unhelpful words of his Master.

"Even complete failure can be a window to finding success." Rancisis pulled a hand from behind his back and stroked his scaly fingers through his flowing white beard. "Go and rest. Meditate on what you've learned today. We'll resume the lesson tomorrow morning."

Ni'dalé scrambled to his feet.

"What I've learned?" His fingers flared with pain as they curled into trembling fists at his sides. "All I've learned is the taste of sand and what it feels like to have more cuts and bruises than I've ever felt before." He glared at his master before forcing himself to unclench his hands. A word nearly left his mouth, but he kept it inside. Enough damage had already been done. He hurried out of the room silently and paced toward his dorm.

Chapter Text

Master Rancisis's blunt lessons repeated within his head as Ni'dalé limped. The ache in his leg filled in the edges around the echoing suggestions and worthless platitudes.

Push it from your mind, it's only making you miserable.

The intricate patterns on the hall's tile floor did nothing to distract him from his frustration. His jaw clenched, holding back the perfect retorts that he'd wished he'd thought of back in the training room.

The sudden appearance of a pair of brown leather boots from around the corner shattered his brooding. He tried his best to brace himself, but his face quickly collided with a brown-sleeved forearm and he tumbled to the floor. He had hoped this part of his day was behind him.

"Careful, young one." The words were forceful and cutting.

Ni'dalé looked up to see a tall man hovering over him. He wore a dark leather tunic with a brown cape draped over his shoulders. It had an ornate silver chain that clasped it together across his chest. His black hair was streaked with grey at his temples and among his neatly kept beard. His hands were firmly at his sides and his brown eyes looked down at Ni'dalé from beyond his nose.

"I'm sorry, I should have been watching where I was going." Ni'dalé slowly dragged himself to his feet. He touched the tender bridge of his nose and winced. The man continued to linger without moving. His harsh gaze softened after a moment.

"And what has you so troubled that it leads you to wander these halls so recklessly?" His deep voice had a regal quality to it that seemed to demand Ni'dalé's explanation.

"I'm sorry, Master. It's really nothing. I just need to rest from training." He'd had enough of lecturing today and was desperate to lie down and rest.

"Hmpf," the man had found some humor in Ni'dalé's words. "It's been some time since I surrendered that title. I am now a simple guest within the Temple."

A cautious relief found Ni'dalé. At least this stranger shouldn't be rushing to correct him in some way. He did his best to show the respect the former Jedi was seemingly due.

"Oh, welcome back then," he shifted himself upward to convey some propriety befitting a Jedi host. "What brings you back here?"

The man smirked as he assessed Ni'dalé's new posture.

"Merely tending to some old friends on Coruscant." There was a warmth to his voice now. He began to walk along his path once more. "But come—tell me more of your training. I'd very much like to hear of how life goes on within the Order, Padawan…"

Ni'dalé watched the caped figure slowly drift down the hall. He glanced in the direction of his dorm before answering.

"Semca." He shuffled up next to the man and matched his meandering pace.

"A pleasure, Padawan Semca." His hands clasped behind his back under his cape as he held his head high. "You may call me Count Dooku."

"Nice to meet you, Ma… Count Dooku." The title was heavy as he said it. He felt slightly unnerved to be speaking to someone of such importance without his Master nearby.

An approving grin spread on Dooku's face.

"Now, tell me truly. What weighs on your mind so heavily? Not a hard day of training, alone. Something more…" He paused for a moment. "Some trouble with your Master, perhaps?" He glanced at Ni'dalé from the corner of his eye.

The astute guess caught Ni'dalé off guard.

"Yeah, how did you know?" He studied Count Dooku closely. He couldn't gather any sense of him through the Force. He just seemed… neutral.
Dooku turned his eyes forward again as he chuckled.

"Ah the bond between Master and Apprentice can be a predictable one. They all have moments where their teachings can border on confounding."

It was reassuring to hear that he wasn't alone in his experience. The Count's words helped to balm his frustration.

"Master Rancisis was especially difficult to understand today. I kind of… shouted at him before I left." His shoulders eased as he admitted his mistake. The looming dread of having to account for the misstep passed out of his mind.

Dooku began to nod slowly.

"Hmm, so Oppo has taken on a new Padawan. I can't say I recall his previous learner."

"He hasn't told me about them either." He found it odd that he didn't know. "How long were you a part of the Order for?"

"Long enough." The short response ended the line of question decisively. "Have you been training under Master Rancisis for some time?"

Ni'dalé turned his gaze forward and shook his head.

"It hasn't been even a year yet. It's been hard though." Ni'dalé sighed. "The lessons he gives me feel important, but…" He paused and wrung his hands together.

"...but, they seem impractical." Count Dooku offered the precise word he had been searching for.

"That's it, exactly." He continued, emboldened by Dooku's affirmation. "If I'm to be a Knight one day, why aren't I training on things that will actually help people? What good does it do anyone for me to spend the day being beaten to a pulp while Master Rancisis keeps stating the obvious reasons why I'm failing?" Several hours of pent up feelings flooded out of him as he spoke.

"A curious question indeed, young Semca." Dooku's continued validation was more than welcome.

"I wish I could understand his way of teaching more easily." He frowned. The pressure of grasping Master Rancisis's intentions had been weighing heavier on him than he realized.

"Have you considered that the failure is not your own? Perhaps the approach of your Master is where the blame belongs."

The words were stretched out, giving them time to settle within Ni'dalé's internal conflict. He furrowed his brow as they rolled within his thoughts. He had only known Master Rancisis a short time. Even the wisest of teachers could be wrong. Maybe he could…

No. What are you thinking?

He scolded himself for allowing his doubts to take hold.

"I don't know. It's been challenging, but I have to have some trust in what he's doing, right?" He waited expectantly for the former Jedi's wisdom to confirm his feelings.

"Trust cannot be given lightly. Would you continue to place your trust in your Master despite the struggle his guidance has led you through?" The rumble in his voice matched the serious nature of the question.

Ni'dalé took a moment to reassure himself of his answer.

"Yes."

Dooku's cape rustled as his hands fell back to his sides. He turned to Ni'dalé and stopped.

"Master Rancisis is wise indeed and his judgement will serve you well. I've no doubt your trust is well placed." The shift back to his original, warm tone jarred Ni'dalé. "I must be going now, Padawan Semca." He started back down the hall again. "Remember though. There are always other paths to be explored, should you wish."

Ni'dalé watched him drift away casually down the hall for a moment. The parting remark left him wondering what life as a grand Count might be like. He was sure it wasn't worth trading his Jedi future for, but it probably had its own interesting qualities.

He winced in preparation before turning back the way he came from. The pain in his leg was dulled by the conversation he had had with Dooku replaying again and again as he trudged onward. He reached his bed far quicker than he'd expected. The soft mattress was soothing as his aching muscles flattened out. He stared at the ceiling, now consumed with a single thought.

"Trust in what he's doing."

He said it out loud to ground it in reality. Whatever friction he'd felt within the training hall couldn't be allowed to continue. No matter what happened in the morning, he'd push himself to endure it. He'd follow his Master's guidance to wherever it led him, no matter how many more scrapes or bruises it meant.

Chapter Text

The morning sun began to peek through the chamber's sky lights and illuminated the whirring obstacle course. It found Ni'dalé balancing on its first obstacle. His eyes were fixed on the swinging pendulums.

One. Two. Three. Go!

He lunged forward and dashed along the balance beam. Each of the padded drums fell just behind him as he reached its end.

Now slow and steady.

He stepped onto a rounded pole that acted as a pivot for a rotating corkscrew. Its gradual turn forced him onward until he again jumped to the next challenge.

Watch for the vibration.

Six horizontal planks lay before him now, each lurching forward and back. A subtle vibration giving away the moment when they were ready to shift. He landed on the first, hopped to the second, then something caught his eye from the doorway. His footing slipped. The fall was quick and his face was introduced to the sand once more. He quickly gathered himself before rushing to meet Master Rancisis near the door.

"Good morning, Master." He slid to a stop, his skin still caked with patches of grey.

Rancisis was coiled in place, his arms crossed in front of him. His eyes looked to the place where Ni'dalé had tumbled from before appraising the state of his Padawan.

"It seems you've returned in high spirits today." The hair above his brow shifted upward.

"Yes, Master. And I wanted to apologize for how I acted yesterday." He needed to clear the air before continuing. "I shouldn't have shouted at you. I appreciate your efforts to help me and I won't let it happen again."

The confession didn't stir a single scale. Ni'dalé had expected some form of acknowledgement, but he began to doubt he had even spoken at all. After an agonizing few moments of silence, his Master finally addressed him.

"An early start may bear fruit, but attempting to learn without guidance is a sure path to flawed wisdom. Back to the start." The pitch perfect chipper tone from the previous day had returned.

With a quick nod, Ni'dalé turned and made his way back to the course. He climbed the steps up to the starting position and readied himself. The horns on his head pointed forward as he narrowed his focus.

"Begin!"

Once more into the chaos he began. The first obstacles had become a formality. He raced past the swinging pendulums, measured his steps through the corkscrew, and pressed through the shifting planks with confident lunges.

The next object was a giant stone egg that spun quickly on its side. It tapered at each end creating a quick rise and descent. He'd have to match the speed carefully to keep from falling. Caution thrown to the wind, he stepped onto the rotating mass and broke into a steady sprint. Carefully angling himself, he began to rise slowly toward its peak.

Careful, keep yourself centered.

The second half seemed to rotate faster and faster as the width of the surface shrank. He tried to fight against it. The slope began to push him more quickly than he was prepared for. The slightest tap of heel on toe sent him off balance. His chest struck stone and it flung him downward. The sting of sand was brief and he pulled himself up to a knee. He examined where he fell from and then the remainder of the course. At least ten more tests still remained between him and his goal.

"Right, back to the start." He gathered himself up and moved for the stairs. An unexpected barrier met him, however. Master Rancisis had placed himself at the base of the stairs and blocked Ni'dalé from continuing. The groans of automation seemed to fade away as a silent exchange of patience and judgement passed between Padawan and Master respectively. Rancisis was first to break the quiet.

"I believe it is time for me to put an end to this lesson." The upbeat manner he had been showing instantly faded and his regular weary rasp settled back into place.

Ni'dalé folded his hands at his waist. He'd offer no protest to his Master's decision.

"Your shift in demeanor has been… significant since we began." His eyes narrowed as he continued. "I will not pretend that I am unaware that more than just practice led to your rapid improvement today."

A needling thought compelled Ni'dalé to speak up about his encounter in the hallway, but he pressed it back. Master Rancisis began again after a long pause.

"I will not ask what transpired as it seems to have led to the desired result, if only a small measure faster than expected." He moved past the issue quickly. "The difficulty of the task put before you did not break your will. You managed to find patience despite the weathering effect of unuseful words." He nodded slightly as if agreeing with his own assessment. "The resilience you've shown will be needed throughout your time as a Padawan. You'll face many trials and each will require you to steel yourself if you are to be successful." He glided forward and placed a hand on Ni'dalé's shoulder. "Remember how you felt, staring down a challenge that seemed impossible. Hold on to that determination and I have no doubt that you will one day stand as a Knight of the Jedi Order, Padawan."

Ni'dalé couldn't hold back his smile. He beamed at Master Rancisis' high praise.

"Thank you, Master. I won't forget what you taught me today."

Rancisis patted his shoulder.

"Go and rest now. You've earned the rest of the day to do as you please." He leaned back on his coiled tail and smiled.

"Yes, Master." Ni'dalé started towards the door, but stopped and turned back. "Could I ask you something, Master?"

"Of course. What is it?"

A wry smile spread on Ni'dalé's face.

"Was it even possible to finish?"

"Certainly." He turned his back to Ni'dalé and gazed at the wild, lurching array of contraptions. "Master Windu manages to finish it most days he comes here to train."

The casual admission nearly floored him. Ni'dalé raised a hand to his forehead as he tried to stifle his laughter. He glanced at the subtle quiver in his Master's shoulders and then made his way out of the chamber.

Chapter Text

The sweet scent of Iridonian Bluth hung in the air. A vast, wind-swept canyon stretched out in front of Ni'dalé, meeting a sharp orange horizon. He sat among the grey-flowered shrubs, breathing in their pleasant aroma.

He is now one with the Force.

He opened his eyes and the canyon bled away. The somber presence of hundreds of others throughout the massive greenhouse flooded back. Trickling streams within the Room of a Thousand Fountains gave voice to their collective wound.

Weeks had passed since the death of Master Qui-gon. Ni'dalé had been left to contemplate the news alone as Master Rancisis, along with the Council, had left to attend the funeral on Naboo. The Temple's spreading grief impressed the weight of the fallen Jedi's loss upon him. Only the small thicket filled with the flora of his homeworld had offered fleeting moments of refuge.

Memories of simpler times filtered in with the steady drone of flowing water. Childish laughter as he and Etto dreamed of what their future might hold. Nostalgia had been a useful distraction from the growing uncertainty that the future now held.

A crack in the melancholy opened as Ni'dalé sensed a familiar presence. The subtle warmth in the Force promised an opportunity for relief as it grew closer. He remained in his hideaway, already feeling the comfort of Master Rancisis's approach. He appeared from beyond the thick green veil that winded along beside a beaten dirt path. He glided forward through the low grass toward Ni'dalé and settled under a spindling black Wortwood tree.

"Hello, Master. I'm glad you're back."

"As am I." He leaned back against the tree, revealing the exhaustion hidden behind his waves of white hair.

"I trust that you've kept to your studies while I was away."

"Yes, Master. The texts on Kashyyyk and Wookiee culture you suggested were especially interesting."

"Good. I would not have your mind idle and troubled by recent events." He closed his eyes.

Ni'dalé permitted him a moment of silence. He could only imagine the stress of leading at times like these. Even for someone as experienced as Master Rancisis. He didn't try to find words that would be meaningful to the ancient Thisspiasian. Only a simple question felt appropriate.

"What was Master Qui'gon like?"

Master Rancisis did not stir from his rest beyond a simple smile.

"He was a man of great conviction, and his belief in the will of the Force was beyond compare." He chuckled. "We had often been of different minds as a result. Our debates would carry on long through the night on so many occasions." His tone shifted if he were still trying to decipher Qui-Gon's ways. "There was no logic I could present that would pierce his resolve once he felt its influence." He opened his eyes. "I will miss his stubborn ways."

He trailed off as he stared up at the simulated sky.

"Are you alright, Master?"

He offered a subtle nod and turned his focus toward Ni'dalé.

"There has been much discussion amongst the Council after the actions of the Trade Federation." He massaged his eyes before dragging his hand slowly through his beard. "And, many more questions have been raised in the wake of Master Qui'gon's fall."

He pressed himself upward then before drifting toward a nearby pool. He paused at its edge and gazed into the rippling water.

"An apology is owed to you, my young Padawan."

Ni'dalé rose and stepped carefully to his Master's side. He could sense the trepidation that plagued him.

"I have failed to prepare you adequately for the rising threat of violence in the galaxy." His fingers cascaded across a fist behind his back. "There had been time to focus your mind before your blade… but now, it must be honed at once."

The command seemed to draw the reality of Naboo into the space around them. Ni'dalé felt a sudden urge to grasp his lightsaber. He wanted to feel the taped wrap of its grip grinding beneath his fingers.

"I am ready, Master."

Rancisis glanced at him.

"I know you are, Ni'dalé."

They turned from the pond as Rancisis continued.

"We will begin training in Soresu immediately. Tell me, what do you recall of it?"

Memories of training remotes and instruction returned to Ni'dalé as he stepped along the worn path through the gardens.

"It is a form devoted to defense and it provides a strong response to modern blasters." He recited Master Rylan's lesson just as he had presented it so many years ago.

"That is correct." Rancisis nodded. "However, you must come to see it as more than just that."

They veered from their path to a small stone stairway. It led to an open platform made of large grey flagstones just above the low shrubs. Rancisis slithered to its far end and drew his lightsaber.

"Soresu's strength lies in its ability to outlast one's opponent. To form an impenetrable wall until the opportunity to strike at your foe's weakness presents itself." His blade flickered to life in a flash of green light. "Now, show me your skill and I will demonstrate." He brought his saber back high behind his shoulder and pointed its tip forward while stretching his other three arms toward Ni'dalé in challenge.

Ni'dalé ignited his matching green blade and angled it ahead in both hands. A wide grin spread on his face as he lowered his stance.

Finally, a chance to show him what I've been working on.

He drove into Rancisis's guard, crashing against it with a downward swipe.

The static vibration of their joined blades scratched as they slid across each other.

He's even stronger than he looks.

Ni'dalé delivered another wide strike across his body that Rancisis effortlessly steered aside. He then slipped past Ni'dalé's following thrust.

How is he so fast?

Again and again, Ni'dalé struck with confidence. Each attack was met by another masterful dodge or deflection. Every angle was covered by an economy of stalwart defense.

His shoulders rose and fell heavily as he gathered himself. He squinted through the sting of sweat at his Master still standing tall.

Nothing is working. You can't give up though.

He lunged forward once more and swung through the open air before stumbling.

He froze.

The hum of his Master's blade hovering behind his head was deafening. It threatened to singe the hair on his neck as Rancisis began to speak.

"Survival through weathering the storm. Victory by withstanding even the most overwhelming of odds."

Rancisis extinguished his lightsaber, allowing Ni'dalé to stand.

"This is what Soresu will deliver to you in time."

Ni'dalé rubbed at his neck, still feeling the heat of plasma on it.

"You made it seem so easy." The enormity of the challenge before him had become clear. "I have a lot to learn."

"Indeed. It will take some time, but with patience and dedication you may exceed my own skill one day."

The vote of confidence was reassuring. His smile returned as he imagined one day matching the prowess he had just witnessed.

"However, we will turn our focus to your foundation for now." Master Rancisis clasped his hands behind him as he continued. "Show me your guard."

Ni'dalé wiped his brow before bringing his lightsaber up to its starting position.

Rancisis circled around him, tugging at his form and guiding him into place.

He now stood side-faced. His blade drawn back just as Rancisis's had been, his free arm outstretched. The stance felt awkward as he tried to keep the tip of his lightsaber away from his face.

Just give it time, it will get more comfortable.

Rancisis stood back and examined the new posture carefully. His assessment led to a satisfied nod.

"This is where your journey will begin."