Jedi High Council — Morning
The chamber was brighter than usual — sunlight streaked across the chamber floor, but no one basked in it.
A holoprojection flickered in the centre of the room, still paused on the final frame of Kaelen's last spar:
A staff pressed against a Padawan's throat, Kaelen's eyes cold. Detached.
No motion. No rage. Just control.
Shaak Ti stood in the centre of the ring.
Composed. Focused. Alone.
"You want to train him," Windu said, arms crossed, tone rigid.
"Yes."
"You saw what he did in the ring."
"And I saw what he didn't do."
Ki-Adi-Mundi leaned forward.
"There are instructors more combat-capable, more politically distanced from him. Why take this risk personally?"
"Because he doesn't need a warrior," Shaak Ti answered.
"He needs a mirror. One he can't break."
Deb Billaba shifted slightly in her seat.
"What makes you believe he'll even engage with the training?"
"Because he already is.
He studies posture, breath, and reaction time.
He learns by watching."
"And what happens when he starts imitating the wrong things?" Windu asked.
"Then we teach him to choose," she replied.
Plo Koon's voice, deep and even, cut through the tension.
"You believe he can find balance?"
Shaak Ti turned slightly toward him.
"No.
But I believe he can build it."
Windu's eyes narrowed.
"You think you can mould him."
"No. I think I can last longer than whatever's trying to keep him from changing."
Silence. Then Yoda finally spoke, slowly:
"A step, this is. Toward light… or shadow."
"The Force surrounds him strangely," Plo added. "It listens to his restraint. Like it respects his silence."
Shaak Ti nodded. "That's why I won't speak more than I have to."
Windu leaned forward.
"If he lashes out again—if you end up in danger—"
"He won't surprise me."
"You sound certain."
"I'm not. But I'm prepared."
Yoda exhaled through his nose.
"Then begin you will. One-on-one. Three sessions a week. No weapons unsupervised. No Force meditation."
"Understood."
Windu gave one final warning:
"You're not reaching into the light.
You're walking into the dark with someone who might never leave it."
Shaak Ti nodded.
"Then I'll walk carefully."
.....................
The lights inside were low.
Kaelen sat with his back to the door, legs folded, the hum of his datapad dim. No sketches today. Just stillness.
The door hissed open.
Shaak Ti entered.
"You're being reassigned."
Kaelen didn't move.
"To what? Meditation wing? Basement cell?"
"To me."
He turned, slowly.
Eyes focused. Unamused.
"Interesting choice. I thought they'd send someone disposable."
"They didn't send anyone."
"So you volunteered?"
"No," she said.
"I chose."
She stepped further into the room. Kaelen stood now, arms relaxed.
No threat. No posture.
But presence.
"You'll train with me. Three sessions weekly.
No saber. No Force instruction. Just form. Breath. Decision-making."
Kaelen chuckled — dry and short.
"Ah. Jedi bootcamp."
"Jedi discipline," she corrected. "The kind you've never had."
"No," he agreed. "What I had worked on."
"That's not the same thing as right."
"Right is who's left standing," he replied.
They faced each other across the room now.
Shaak Ti's voice lowered slightly — not in softness, but weight.
"You are not here to fight. You are here to choose who you become."
Kaelen's eyes narrowed slightly.
"You think you can help me with that?"
"No," she said. "But I can help you understand what happens if you don't."
A long silence.
Kaelen's shoulders rose once. A breath.
Then:
"We start tomorrow?"
"We start now."
She gestured to the floor.
Kaelen looked at it. Then back at her.
"Sitting still won't fix me."
"No. But it'll show me how long you can go without hiding behind your next move."
He sat.
Slowly. Cross-legged.
Shaak Ti followed.
The two sat in complete silence — no Force, no posturing, no words.
The room was still.
And for once…
Kaelen didn't feel like he was being watched.
Only measured.
The training chamber was sealed. No open balconies. No audience.
Just the two of them.
Just space.
Just quiet.
And Kaelen hated quiet.
He stood still as Shaak Ti fastened the weighted cuffs around his ankles, then wrists. Her movements were precise, not deferential. She didn't flinch as she tightened the last clasp, though the cuff clicked against a scar on Kaelen's wrist.
"These will slow you down," she said.
"So will hesitation," he replied.
"Then let's train without either."
She stepped back, and the first sequence began.
Basic footwork. Circular stance movements. Unarmed rotation drills.
Kaelen moved like he'd done this before — but not her way.
His pivot wasn't centred. His shoulders didn't roll through the motion — they twitched, resetting for strikes. Always braced. Always prepared.
This isn't flow, Shaak Ti noted. It's targeting. His body remembers distance, not grace.
"Your heel's drifting out of line," she said gently.
Kaelen didn't stop the motion — just replied over his shoulder.
"Only if you're standing on polished Temple flooring. Try this in a cave, with one leg broken."
Shaak Ti didn't correct him further. She just watched.
Let him fail his technique.
On the fourth cycle, Kaelen slipped slightly — just a stuttered pivot.
He stopped. Reset. Said nothing.
But the change was there.
Next round: he corrected it without a word.
........................
They moved to object strikes — a soft-weight staff and suspended wooden discs.
Kaelen struck each target with surgical force, not just hitting, but reading how they wobbled.
"You're not just striking," Shaak Ti said.
"I'm studying response time. Trajectory. Material shift."
"And what will you do with that information?"
Kaelen paused.
"The next time I fight someone, I'll know where they break."
Shaak Ti tilted her head. "And when do you break?"
Kaelen smirked.
"I don't."
He struck the next disc harder than needed, splintering it off the chain.
The noise echoed. Loud. Sharp.
He held the staff perfectly still afterwards. Eyes flat. Hands relaxed.
But the tension in the room shifted.
Shaak Ti felt the Force shiver.
Only slightly.
Not dark.
Not angry.
Focused.
Like something watching her through Kaelen's eyes.
"You're drawing on the Force now."
"No, I'm not," Kaelen replied.
"Then it's drawing on you."
They stood silently. The broken disc spun gently between them, still swaying.
Shaak Ti stepped forward.
"When did you first feel it?"
Kaelen turned slightly. Not defensive — but measured.
"During my second kill. I was ten."
"And what did it feel like?"
"Like something heavy… behind me."
He paused.
"Like it was waiting to see if I'd enjoy it."
Shaak Ti didn't speak right away.
Then—
"And did you?"
Kaelen looked at her. Eyes like flint.
"No."
He turned away.
"But I didn't hate it either."
.....................
They returned to the mats.
Cross-legged. Still. Weighted cuffs still in place.
Kaelen didn't resist.
But he didn't close his eyes right away either.
"Why do you keep trying?" he asked, voice quiet.
"Because trying is how we learn," she said.
"Or how we waste time."
"Then this is your test," she said. "Endure it without wasting mine."
Kaelen stared.
Then — surprisingly — closed his eyes.
And the Force stirred.
This time stronger.
Not chaotic.
But dense.
Like a vault.
Like Kaelen was holding something inside him so tightly that even the Force itself was straining to understand.
Shaak Ti's breath slowed.
She could feel it.
The darkness wasn't loud.
It wasn't angry.
It was structured.
Like a dam.
One that had never been cracked.
"It's watching you again," she whispered.
Kaelen opened his eyes.
"Let it."
They stared at each other. No challenge. No threat.
Just recognition.
"You're afraid of what's inside you," she said.
"I'm not," Kaelen answered.
"I'm afraid of what happens when I stop being."
........................
They stood in silence.
Shaak Ti deactivated the training holos and retrieved the cuffs from his wrists.
Kaelen didn't speak as she removed them. But he didn't pull away either.
"Same time tomorrow," she said.
"Are we sparring?"
"Not yet."
"Pity," he murmured.
"Why?"
Kaelen looked at her.
"Because I haven't bled in a while."
She didn't respond. She left without another word.
Kaelen stood in the middle of the chamber, staring at the worn spot on the mat where the disc had shattered.
And for the first time…
He didn't smile.
The garden was darker tonight.
Even the Temple lights seemed quieter.
Shaak Ti stepped through the archway, robes barely brushing the stone. She didn't announce herself.
She just sat beside him.
Not in front.
Not across.
Beside.
Like she had permission.
Kaelen didn't speak at first. His eyes were on the water.
When he finally did, his voice was soft. Not weak. Just… numb.
"This place is wrong."
"Why?"
"Because nothing alive is this still."
A breeze moved between the bonsai trees. Shaak Ti said nothing.
He went on.
"Stillness is how you die when they've already found you.
Stillness is what happens when the other children stop crying.
Stillness means they're not breathing anymore."
She turned her head to him, slowly.
Kaelen didn't look at her.
"When I was nine, they locked me in a shipping crate with a timer and a knife.
No food. No water.
Just me and one other initiate."
"What happened?"
"We waited.
Six hours in silence.
Then he said he'd give me the knife if I let him live."
"Did you?"
"No.
I let him keep it.
Then I broke his arm when he turned his back."
Shaak Ti remained perfectly still.
"I didn't kill him," Kaelen said. "They punished me for that."
"Why?"
"Because the mission was to eliminate the threat."
"And you chose not to."
"No," he said.
"I just wanted him to remember who let him live."
Silence again.
Kaelen leaned forward, elbows on knees, fingers steepled.
"You want to know why I don't close my eyes when I meditate?"
"Tell me."
"Because I still remember the exact weight of a child's skull.
Because when I close my eyes, I see a boy swinging a broken pipe at me while he's crying."
"And what do you feel?"
Kaelen finally looked at her.
"Nothing."
"Are you sure?"
"Yes."
"Then why did you let him live?"
Kaelen looked away.
"Because someone needed to."
Shaak Ti took that in.
No judgment. No reaction.
Just presence.
That shook him more than scolding ever could.
"You keep trying to find a Jedi in me," he said. "But I don't think the Jedi were ever meant for people like me."
"What were you meant for?"
"The part of the galaxy that doesn't need peace.
The part that waits in the dark and doesn't ask questions when the job is done."
Shaak Ti finally spoke again.
"Then why are you still here?"
Kaelen didn't answer.
Not for a long time.
Then, finally:
"Because you haven't told me to leave."
That landed heavier than anything else.
Shaak Ti stood quietly.
"I'll be in the lower chamber tomorrow at dawn."
Kaelen looked up.
"More drills?"
"No," she said. "Something different."
"What?"
"I want to see what happens when you protect something instead of destroying it."
She left.
Kaelen remained still.
The water in the pool rippled — a leaf had fallen into it.
He didn't move to remove it.
He just watched it sink.
Slowly.
Temple Sublevel — Simulated Combat Hall
Lights hummed low overhead. The air tasted faintly of ozone and ferrosteel—leftovers from a dozen simulations run before. The walls were lined with reinforced duracrete, embedded holoprojectors, and reactive threat-tracking nodes.
But today, only one projector was active.
And only one subject had entered the chamber.
Kaelen Vizsla.
At the far end of the room, behind a thick transparent barrier, stood Shaak Ti, alone at the observation terminal.
She input the final sequence, then looked up—not at the screen, but at the boy standing across the chamber in silence.
"You'll have no saber," she said through the comms.
"No Force augmentation. This test is behavioural, not combative."
"Then you won't learn much," Kaelen replied.
"I think I will."
"And if I fail?"
"Then we both do."
She pressed Enter.
The simulation launched.
Sim Environment: Crushed City Outpost
The walls shifted. Light fractured. Panels rotated to reshape the chamber into a crumbling alley of urban ruin—smoke curling through shattered windows, fires flickering behind digital glass.
The air even smelled different. Simulated ionisation. Dust. Blood.
Six combat droids activated with red-lit eyes. Painted as Separatist proxies. Training-grade—but fast.
And huddled behind debris—
A hostage.
Kneeling.
Bound.
Crying.
The sobbing sound echoed just enough to feel real.
Kaelen stepped forward.
Slow. Controlled.
Not like a student entering a test.
Like a hunter choosing his angle.
He didn't run.
Didn't draw attention.
He flowed between cover, analysed movement rhythms, and timed droid patrols.
Silent. Surgical. Sovereign.
First droid: disabled with a silent takedown—hip torque, servo cut, pivoted head snap.
Second: disarmed, redirected into a wall—sensor cracked, downed.
The third noticed. Raised its weapon.
Kaelen was already moving—no Force, just trained brutality.
He rolled low, launched up, struck the joint seam behind its left knee, and used the weight of its collapse to trip the fourth.
He advanced—
until the fifth droid turned toward the hostage…
And struck her.
Just once.
Not hard.
A simulation cue. Triggering empathy.
But that single moment—
stopped everything.
Kaelen didn't breathe.
The lights around the room dimmed unnaturally.
The temperature dropped two degrees in three seconds.
In the observation chamber, Shaak Ti leaned forward.
There it is.
Kaelen stood straight.
No more cover.
No more hiding.
He walked calmly into the droids' line of fire.
They raised weapons.
He didn't flinch.
They fired.
Blaster bolts shot forward—
Kaelen dodged with movements too fast, too precise for a non-enhanced human. He caught a bolt on a forearm plate, twisted his body sideways, and slid beneath the next round.
The Force pulsed.
Not like an outburst.
Like a command.
The fifth droid flew backward, ckward—ripped off its own feet and slammed into a wall with enough impact to leave cracks in the projection matrix.
The sixth droid was already mid-turn—
Kaelen threw his entire body weight behind a staff-grab pivot, locked its elbow, and—
The artificial joint shattered. The arm dangled, twitching.
He drove a knee into its chest plate and finished it with a palm to the neck sensor.
The room was still.
The hostage whimpered.
Kaelen stood centre, shoulders rising, breath just starting to catch.
No saber.
No violence unearned.
But no one watching mistook him for calm.
Observation Deck
Shaak Ti didn't speak.
She just watched the holograms dissolve.
The simulated hostage vanished.
The smoke cleared.
Kaelen turned toward the observation deck window and looked directly into it.
Not with the challenge.
With conviction.
I chose restraint, his stare seemed to say.
And you still flinched.
Jedi Council Chamber — Late Evening
Rain whispered against the skylight.
Lightning flashed behind the spires of Coruscant.
But inside the Temple's highest room, the storm was already in the room.
A still hologram hovered above the central platform, frozen mid-frame. It showed Kaelen standing over the disabled droid, shoulders heaving, head bowed slightly.
A final, undeniable image:
Not rage. Not chaos. Just purpose.
Shaak Ti stood in the centre of the Council ring. She did not defend herself. She did not speak first.
She waited.
Master Windu didn't.
"He didn't lose control. He applied it. Exactly when and how he wanted."
"And he protected the hostage," Plo Koon said, voice even.
"But with unnecessary force," Ki-Adi-Mundi added. "The crushing of the joint, the projection into the wall — the objective was already secure."
Shaak Ti finally spoke.
"He wasn't reacting to a droid.
He was reacting to a moment he's lived before."
Depa Billaba leaned forward slightly, voice softer.
"He didn't just neutralise the threat. He sent a message."
"To us," Windu said.
"To himself," Shaak Ti corrected. "He was proving he could make a different choice."
"That's what terrifies me," Windu said. "The choice wasn't to win. It was to dominate. Not to destroy… but to control completely."
Yoda looked weary. His hands folded tight, ears still.
"Tested he was. More than he knows.
But tested, too, are we."
Shaak Ti turned slowly to address the full room.
"You asked me to train a weapon.
You're surprised now that it knows how to move."
"We asked you to train a boy," Windu said sharply.
"No. You asked me to keep a threat on a leash until it behaved."
She let the words hang.
"He behaved. You're still afraid."
No one answered.
Not because she was wrong.
But because she was right.
"So what now?" Plo asked quietly.
Windu turned back to the window.
"Private instruction only.
No interaction with Padawans.
No independent movement without a senior Knight.
No lightsaber access.
We will train him. But he will not be treated as one of us."
Shaak Ti's jaw tightened just slightly.
"That's not training."
"It's survival."
"Fwhomwho?" she asked.
"Yes," Windu replied flatly.
Yoda raised his head.
"A path, he clearly, it is not.
But shroud him further… and darkness may be all he finds."
Kaelen's Quarters — Midnight
The hallway was silent.
The light outside his room had shifted — no longer white.
Now red. Subtle. Almost warm. But it meant one thing:
Restricted Zone: Observation Only
Kaelen sat alone on the floor.
Not pacing.
Not sketching.
Just sitting.
Eyes half-lidded.
The cuffs still lay beside him.
The datapad in his lap glowed faintly with a list — words he'd written in silence after the test.
Each liis ne plain, sharp, honest.
Restraint
Precision
Protection
Power
He stared at the last one.
Then slowly added a fifth:
Cost
He set the pad down.
Closed his eyes.
The Force stirred behind his ribs.
Not a surge.
Not a storm.
A heartbeat.
Deep. Measured.
Ready.