I couldn't believe how much my life had changed in just a re two months. Yes, it had an organized feel to it, just like back ho. Learning and training those parts were the sa, yet they were not. Back ho, I did it because I had to. Here, I wanted to. When I first arrived at the Jedi Temple, the thought of wielding a lightsaber or feeling the Force as a living presence had been sothing that none of my dreams could live up to. Actually, doing it was... indescribable. Now, my days were filled with ditation, training, and lessons that stretched my mind and body to their limits, differently than analyzing old battle tapes or conditioning my body to withstand piloting a spacecraft. The Jedi training was exhausting, sure, but it was also exhilarating.
The others had settled in as well. Vila, despite her rough start, was slowly finding her footing. She'd co to the Temple with more scars than most—many of them invisible, but I could feel them the more we sparred. Her body had old scars in many places, but I think her spirit was even more scarred. I wanted to help her, but I had no idea how; I just hoped that our Masters knew a way. Still, her dictionary didn't contain the word 'giving up,' as she was trying no matter how many tis she failed sothing. I'd catch glimpses of her during lessons, her violet eyes narrowed with determination, her hand raised to ask questions when she didn't understand sothing. At first, she hesitated to ask about anything, but we all were told multiple tis that there were no questions, and since then, she never held back from asking them.
That was sothing I admired about her. She didn't let the gaps in her knowledge stop her from moving forward. Vila had co from nothing—I was sure by now that she was a slave—and now she was here, struggling to master not just the Force but also the basic skills most of us took for granted: reading, writing, or math.
Yes. The Jedi didn't just teach us to use the Force or fight with lightsabers. They wanted us to be well-rounded. Masters like Vaelin Caedryn and Aren Solara believed that education was just as important as training. So, in addition to practicing the basics of Form I, as Padawans, we also were made to take on other lessons. Those of us who had a stronger foundation, like , we were tasked to help those who didn't.
I wasn't sure how much of a teacher I was, if I could explain things as well as our Masters. But Vila often ended up sitting beside during language or arithtic lessons. She was stubborn, asking questions until she understood the answer completely, and I found myself respecting that determination more and more, wanting to imitate it.
Still, she had her monts when she didn't need help or explanation. When she... Let's just say she involuntarily demonstrated her force powers... There was one ti during a math lesson when she got so frustrated she nearly crushed her datapad with the Force. Master Rosh Penin didn't seem to mind, calming her down with words and trying to guide her toward relaxation through Force. When Master Katarn had learned of it in our following dueling bout, he laughed it off, saying sothing about how raw emotion wasn't all bad—it just needed to be tempered. Vila hadn't laughed... She realized that was sothing that a Jedi should have never done; even if she didn't crush the datapad, the intent was there... I counted that as progress.
The rest of us were finding our own challenges, too. Jalo Vreek, a Rodian Padawan I had spent a few spars with when we were grouped up differently, had a talent for lightsaber combat but struggled to sit still during ditation sessions. I think he once fell asleep trying to connect with the Force... I don't know why, but I teased him about it for a week, which only made him try harder. Sohow, I felt like I had to, and the result was evident at once, catching up to us all very quickly.
As for ... well, I was still figuring things out for myself.
I'd gotten the basics of Shii-Cho down, at least. The wide, sweeping motions felt natural after a while, and I'd stopped bruising myself with the training saber when overextending and letting my partners counter my moves. But the Force? That was harder. It was like trying to grasp sothing just out of reach, always there but always slipping through my fingers. I could feel so many things that they felt overwhelming, making it hard to focus on only one aspect and start manipulating objects.
Tonight, though, wasn't about training. It was about answers. I was about to do the sa thing I did back ho when I felt overwheld and wanted to relax a little: read.
As I made my way to the archives, the Temple was quieter than usual. Most of the Padawans were asleep, and the only sounds were the faint drone of the ventilation systems and the occasional rustle of leaves outside when the wind picked up, or maybe so animals walked by. The light from the massive gas giant, filling the sky above us, filtered through the windows, deepening the shadows across the walkways.
The archives were one of my favorite places in the Temple. Rows upon rows of actual books and holographic datapads lined the shelves, each one a piece of history, carrying knowledge from thousands of years before my ti. Entering it, the air always slled faintly of dust and old leather, sothing the others apparently never noticed. Well, maybe I was imagining it, but there was a stillness here that felt sacred. As I headed deeper in, the sound of a familiar voice greeted .
"Oh, hello there! Late night, I see?"
C-3PO stood near the central console, his golden plating gleaming as if he was recently polished. I swear, I could see my reflection in his chest. As far as I knew, the protocol droid had been assigned to the archives for the midnight shift, and he took his role very seriously.
"Good evening, C-3PO," I said, keeping my voice low. "Just here to study."
"Ah, excellent! The pursuit of knowledge is the hallmark of any Jedi, you know. Master Luke himself spent countless hours here, establishing the base of this wonderful collection and reading all of the tos housed here. If you need assistance, I'd be delighted to help. My databanks contain over six million forms of communication, historical records, and—"
"I'll let you know if I need anything," I interrupted gently, not wanting to offend him. I just knew that if I didn't, he would never stop.
C-3PO nodded—or, at least, tilted his head in a way that approximated a nod—and returned to his task of cataloging holobooks.
I made my way to one of the reading alcoves, settling into a chair with a datapad. Tonight, I wasn't here for just any history. I was here to hear Luke Skywalker's story. I could have asked C-3PO, but that felt wrong, and if I were in the Grandmaster's shoes, I would have placed so kind of security on my droid's mouth to prevent it from divulging sensitive information.
Growing up in an Imperial household, I'd heard the na Luke Skywalker plenty of tis. But the stories were always the sa: he was a terrorist, a rebel, soone who had betrayed the Galaxy by aiding the destruction of the Empire. My father once said that he was a celebrated mass murderer, ending hundreds of thousands of lives, and that only counted the destruction of the two Death Stars. In truth, my parents rarely spoke about him in detail, but the disdain in their voices whenever his na ca up was enough to shape my perception in my early years.
It wasn't until I understood more about the Galaxy that I realized there was more to the story. I learned that so places outside of our region revered Luke, and many masters of countless worlds treated him like a living legend. But even with all the admiration, no one ever really talked about his past past a certain point. Who was he before he was the savior of the Galaxy?
So here I was, trying to piece it together for myself.
The datapad lit up with an index of historical recordings and transcripts. I selected one marked 'The Rebel Alliance and the Hero of Endor' and settled back to read.
The story unfolded slowly, painting a picture of a man very different from the one I'd been taught to hate. This Luke Skywalker wasn't a terrorist; he was a boy from Tatooine who'd gotten swept up in a war he never wanted to fight. He'd joined the Rebellion not out of hatred but out of a desire to protect the innocent and stand against oppression.
As I read, the pieces began to fall into place. The destruction of the Death Star, the rescue of Leia Organa, and the training on Dagobah with Master Yoda—it all felt larger than life, like a legend. It contained information I knew he had put in there to teach us Padawans. It felt like it, at least, because every chapter ended with thoughts I felt were coming from the Grandmasters, giving us lessons through his life.
What struck the most was the way Luke faced his enemies. He hadn't killed Darth Vader out of vengeance; he'd redeed him. He'd stood before the Emperor, unard, and refused to turn to the dark side, even when it would have saved his own life. He would have died if not for Darth Vader's interference... I couldn't believe it. Nobody even talked about it back ho. Did they even know? Or would they believe sothing like that?
I sat back, letting the datapad rest in my hands. The Luke Skywalker I was reading about wasn't the villain my parents had described, and now I had proof in my hands. He was sothing else entirely—sothing greater.
"Quite inspiring, isn't it?"
I looked up to see C-3PO standing nearby, his photoreceptors glowing softly.
"Yeah," I admitted. "It's... more than what I expected."
"Master Luke's journey was filled with trials, but his dedication to the Jedi Code and the light side of the Force remained unwavering. You know, I was there for much of it!" C-3PO added, his voice tinged with pride.
I smiled faintly, my thoughts still on the story. He was indeed, and right now, I felt like I would love to hear it from his perspective and see how it fares against the possibly curated words of this datapad. So, I did sothing I wouldn't have otherwise and asked him if he would be willing to retell it.
And, oh boy, he was more than willing. Still, it was like listening to a theater play unfold as he not only recounted what he knew, but I could hear the voices of the Grandmaster and his companions, along with his enemies.
By the ti I left the library, it was dawn the next day. I did not feel tired or anything; on the contrary, I was filled with energy. As I walked, I bumped into Jalo, smiling at him.
"Early training again?" I asked, knowing he was heading toward the ditation chambers.
"I can't let you call Snory again, Kael." He answered in his heavy, rodian accent, playfully jabbing my shoulders. "See you at saber training?"
"No, I'm upgrading."
"Oh? Are you going to pick your own style? Already?"
"I am not even the first or second to do that!" I chuckled, which was true. So, like Vila, had already begun learning a different form than the first.
"Any ideas which one?"
"Yeah." I nodded my head, feeling excited. It had been evident since the mont I learned about all the forms. I already had fencing as a background anyway... "I'm going to start learning Form II: Makashi."
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