Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

The smell of petrichor and damp earth pulled you from a dreamless sleep You groaned, realizing you’d left the window cracked again, letting the city’s grime and the morning drizzle seep into your small apartment You rose with a mechanical heaviness, closing the glass before shuffling toward the bathroom.

 

As the harsh fluorescent lights flickered to life, you stared at your reflection while brushing your teeth. Your mind drifted a common occurrence since graduation
The weight of student loans felt like a physical pressure on your chest, turning your existence into a colorless loop: wake, work, eat, sleep. The things you once loved art, adventure, connection had been sacrificed at the altar of survival you couldn't even afford the luxury of a cat for emotional support Instead, you lived on a diet of fragile hope, whispering to yourself that one day you’d have a better house, a partner, or at least a job that didn't feel like a slow death.

 

Though you hadn’t been religious since childhood, you found yourself praying lately It wasn't out of faith, but out of desperation a silent plea to a silent universe. You were lonely, your routine so predictable that the neighbors could set their watches by your movements You couldn't tell your family; they had become strangers, distant voices on a phone who treated your move to another state like a betrayal

 

The shrill bite of your alarm snapped you back to reality You rushed to the bus, headed for a gray office building where your Fine Arts degree served only as a coaster for coffee mugs You were a glorified paper pusher, "beggars can’t be choosers." You said your self

 

On your way in, you dropped a dollar into the guitar case of a struggling student That brief moment of kindness cost you the elevator By the time you climbed the stairs, you were two minutes late, earning a sharp, predatory glare from your supervisor. The day was a blur of monotony, punctuated only by the smell of a coworker’s pungent sandwich and a heated debate nearby about which Star Wars character was the most attractive.

 

Tiffany, the girl at the next desk, noticed your blank stare and launched into a passionate monologue about the lore. To be polite and perhaps because you were starving for any new information senator/Jedi/Sith names began to swirl in your head You promised to check it out, mostly just to end the conversation.

But that weekend, the obsession took root.

Starting with The Acolyte and spiraling through the prequels, The Clone Wars, and the original trilogy, you were consumed. The "gray" of your life was replaced by the glow of lightsabers and the roar of starfighters. You moved from movies to comics, then to fanfiction, and finally, you began to write your own stories.

 

The obsession changed you. You saw yourself in Anakin’s fall and Obi-Wan’s resilience. To save money for figurines, you lived on canned beans. To look like the heroes you admired, you traded your sedentary habits for the gym, dropping from 90kg to a lean, muscled 60kg You picked up your charcoal pencils again. You started climbing and swimming. For the first time in years, you weren't just surviving you were living.

 

One year later, you were headed to your first Star Wars convention, your heart racing with a clumsy, childlike excitement You were so distracted that you fumbled your coffee and took a wrong turn, ending up in a maintenance wing of a massive, old building.

 

Tired and thinking you could find a shortcut, you pushed through a heavy door. It was stuck. You could hear other people and see the dim light you tried again thinking it could work this time but it didn't so you threw your shoulder into it with all your newly built muscle. The door didn't just open it gave way into a void.
"What the—!"
The scream was ripped from your lungs as you tumbled into open air.
The wind howled, freezing the breath in your throat. Below you wasn't a convention floor, but a vast, shimmering lake surrounded by an emerald jungle. You hit the water with the force of a car crash.

 

Panic, cold and sharp, threatened to drown you. As you scrambled for the surface, a massive shadow circled below a predator sensing a gift from the sky You broke the surface, gasping for air that tasted... different. Sweeter. More humid. You swam for your life, your muscles screaming, as a green skinned aquatic gundark breached the water behind you, its multiple eyes locked on its prey.

 

You collapsed onto the muddy shore, lungs burning, and watched the beast roar before retreating into the depths. You wept then short, jagged sobs of terror and denial. But the vegetation, the humidity, the creature... it was all too familiar. Yavin 4? No, it was impossible You were just at the event, how did you end up here?
Tears stream involuntarily from your eyes, falling onto the damp, fragrant mud. Your breath feels constricted, as if someone is squeezing your throat You wail like someone who has lost everything, you try to take a deep breath, as if it were your last.
panic burns inside you, like a monster living in your stomach, gnawing, scratching, tearing, You stood there for a long time, scared, wet, alone.

 

Once again you try to calm down your self as the forest around you sings its gentle song The creatures around you gather and watch you, as if judging you, waiting for something to happen, but when you lift your head, you can't see the silhouette of any of them, yet you can feel each one It feels different, familiar but different
After making sure you're calm enough, You turn your path into a deep, dense, and vibrant forest
Minutes later, you heard voices Hope flared, Pushing through the brush, you saw them: a group of Weequays, Niktos, and a Rodian.

 

"I don’t have a weapon! Please, help me!" you cried out, your voice trembling.

The aliens paused, looking at you with confusion.
"Does anyone know what this thing is saying?" the Weequay growled in Galactic Basic You understood him perfectly, but when you spoke, it was gibberish to them.

 

"Maybe they're asking for bacta?" one suggested, gesturing to your scratches.
"Or maybe," another countered, a cruel smile touching his lips, "the boss wouldn't say no to free goods. A healthy looking human like this? Good credits in the spice mines."

 

Slavers

The realization hit you harder than the fall. You turned and bolted
The jungle became a blur of thorns and mud. You heard them behind you, shouting about "off-worlders" and "the marsh."

 

Remembering your lore, you knew you couldn't outrun them forever. You found a muddy embankment and slid down, coating yourself in thick, metallic smelling muck to mask your scent and silhouette. You lay deathly still in the reeds as the slavers passed overhead, cursing your disappearance.

 

When the voices finally faded, you crawled toward a narrow cave nestled in the cliffside You were exhausted, starving, and covered in filth. The cave went surprisingly deep, the air growing warmer and more humid.

 

You pulled out your phone. The screen was shattered, a spiderweb of glass emitting only a faint, dying flicker of light. It was enough to guide you to a small, bubbling spring at the back of the cavern. Despite every survival instinct telling you not to, you drank. The water had a strange, mineral sweetness unlike anything on Earth.

 

As you curled up on a patch of soft, alien moss, the sheer impossibility of your situation settled over you You weren't a fan anymore; you were a participant Your body aches terribly, which isn't surprising after everything you've been through today, but there's a strange feeling here, like the water you drank is trying to seep into your bones, and panic is rising in your throat in a poisonous way
"Don't panic, you whispered to the darkness, If you panic, it's over. I can handle this" You console yourself with the demeanor of a devoted mother
With the distant howl of a forest predator echoing outside, you decide to end the day and started drifting i.nto a heavy, dreamless sleep

Chapter Text

As the first rays of the sun hit the cold, damp walls of the cave, things you cannot explain begin to happen to your body. Your muscles shrink and tighten as if they have minds of their own; your skin stretches like dough, adapting to your new form.
As the weight of sleep lifts slightly, you get your first taste of the insidious pain lurking beneath your skin.

 

The pain makes you groan even before you are fully awake. It is a searing, fresh sensation leaking through the soft edges of a dream. Every single cell aches as if you’ve spent hours under a merciless sun in the middle of a desert.

 

Opening your eyes felt no different than moving a mountain. Your lids were sealed shut by the weight of a sticky slumber. When you finally managed to part them, the first thing you saw was the dim, greenish light reflecting off the cave ceiling.

 

You tried to stand up. But your body would not obey. Your head felt woozy, as if you had struck a hard rock; hunger clawed at your stomach like a talon, and your throat felt the searing dryness left behind by a sandstorm.

 

You raised your hands to rub your eyes. But the movement stopped for a moment. You couldn’t see your hands. Or rather, you couldn't see the hands you expected to see.

 

When your vision cleared, your heart began to flutter like a bird in a cage. What you saw was a nightmare turned into reality.

 

The hands rubbing your eyes were not those of a large adult. They were... small. With slender fingers and soft, unblemished skin, they were the hands of a child.
(If you wish to be a race other than human, you can imagine your transformation here.)

 

Fear slid down your spine like a block of ice. Your breath hitched in your throat. You brought your hands closer to your face, inspecting them as if they were strangers. They were small. Incredibly small.

 

You craned your neck to see more. But your neck was... short, too. You looked at your body. That old, muscular, tall frame was gone. In its place was the scrawny, short, undeveloped body of a child.

 

That last image in your memory the way you were before entering the cave, muscular, an adult... that person was gone.

Standing there now was a 10-year-old copy of your self.

The shock of it hit you like a slap to the face. This was the Star Wars universe, okay. But this... this was nothing like anything in the movies. This wasn't a survival story. This was a nightmare.
You are 10 years old. You are alone. You are on an unknown planet. And worse... you’ve shrunk.

The silence of the cave was broken by a child's ragged, panic stricken breaths. You stared at your hands; small, soft, and spotless...
This sight was even more terrifying than the fear you felt for a gundark.

"No," you whispered, but the voice that came out was thin and fragile.
"No, this must be a dream. A side effect of the swamp water... I'm hallucinating."
You crawled to the edge of the water source and looked at the trembling surface. The reflection in the water wasn't that of the disciplined, muscular adult who had spent a year rebuilding his life. Standing before you was a ten year old child staring back with wide, terrified eyes.

The wave of denial hit like a physical blow. You slapped your cheeks, hoping to wake up in your own apartment. But the pain was real. The cold mud under your fingernails was real. And the burning, gnawing hunger in your shrunken stomach was very real.

With an instinctive urge to survive, you threw yourself out of the cave. Your new body felt clumsy; your center of gravity had shifted, and your legs had shrunk to half their former length. You moved through Yavin’s dense vegetation, searching for something edible.

You were so focused on the blueish fruits that you didn't hear the sound of the branch snapping behind you.

"Look at this," a raspy voice hissed.

Before you could escape, a heavy, coarse net fell over you. You struggled, screaming in your new, high-pitched voice, but a massive, scaly hand pinned you to the ground. It was the very same Weequay pirate from yesterday. He looked at you, but there was no sign of recognition in his eyes. To him, you weren't the "stranger" who escaped yesterday; you were just a valuable piece of stray loot.

"A cub? Out here alone?"
The Weequay smirked, revealing yellowed teeth. "Clean this one up and throw it in the hold. The Zygerrians pay well for the young ones. They’re easier to break."

You were dragged across the ground, tossed onto a repulsor sled, and finally imprisoned in the dark, metallic cell of a trembling cargo ship.
The smell of burnt ozone and grease filled your nostrils as the ship left the atmosphere. You were no longer just a fan; you were now a slave.

The walls of the cell felt like they were closing in. You pounded on the door with your small fists until they bled, but the pirates only laughed as they passed by.

"Please!" you shouted.
"Let me go! I don't belong here!"

To them, it was just rhythmic noise. As despair began to swallow you, you curled into a corner, closed your eyes, and reached out with everything you had. You didn't know how to use the Force; you weren't even sure if you possessed it.
But in that moment of absolute helplessness, you turned all your pain, your memories from the movies you watched, and your desire to be saved into a single silent, mental scream.

"Help me."
"Someone, please help!"

You didn't see the air ripple around you. You didn't notice the lights in the corridor flicker and burst. You only felt a strange, cold tingling in your spine; your consciousness reached toward the stars like a flare.

Hours or perhaps days later, the ship suddenly jolted. An explosion echoed through the hull, followed by that familiar sound of a lightsaber. The screams of the pirates echoed through the ventilation ducts and were then cut short by the precise strikes of Jedi Knights.

The cell door hissed open.

Standing there in the glow of a blue lightsaber, with her exotic skin tone and the bone white protrusions on her head, was Master Stass Allie.
Beside her were two more Jedi Knights, their robes billowing in the ship's leaking drafts.

You backed away, your eyes wide with shock. "Who?" you whispered, instantly recognizing the Council member. "You... the Jedi?!"

Stass Allie deactivated her saber and knelt, looking at you with compassion. She spoke in a melodic and calm voice, but due to the stress of the moment, you couldn't understand a single word; the words were just a series of meaningless sounds to you.

"Help" you cried out, tears streaming down your cheeks. "I know who you are! Please, take me with you!"

The Jedi Knights exchanged a worried glance. To them, you were a traumatized child speaking in a language that resembled no dialect of the Outer Rim.

"The Force is very loud in this child," one of the knights said, his hand hovering over the equipment on his belt. "But their mind... is clouded by a strange chaos. I cannot read their intent."

Stass Allie, feeling the raw and massive energy radiating from your small body, reached out her hand.
"They is not just a victim of slavery," she said gravely. "The ripple in the Force around them is unlike anything I have felt before. We cannot simply leave them at a refugee center."

When they wrapped you in a large, coarsely woven Jedi robe, you were able to let your guard down for the first time since setting foot in this alien galaxy.
The weight of the fabric seemed to block out the horrors of the outside world, if only a little.
However, the moment the shuttle jumped into hyperspace, your already starving stomach turned.
You gagged involuntarily; but there was nothing left in your stomach to bring up, only the taste of bile burning your throat.
One of the knights noticed your condition, took you to the medbay, and pressed a dry energy bar into your hand.
As you gnawed on the bar with great hunger, snatches of conversation reached your ears through the low hum of the ship's engines.

"...Coruscant... must be taken... coordinates..."

You were going to the heart of the Republic. A question gnawed at you:
What would happen to you? You hoped they wouldn't just abandon you; but what would you even say to them the moment they understood you?
"Actually, I come from a place called Earth, you are just fictional characters in my world and this place isn't actually real,"
As you got lost in these suffocating thoughts, you realized that your clothes, which now felt like a blanket on your small body, were not enough to contain that strange trembling and heat within you.
You were hesitant to ask them for anything. Fearing you would get into trouble later if you seemed too much like a "whining child," you gritted your teeth. Just then, the monotonous hum of the ship was interrupted as a young knight entered the medbay.

You were trying so hard to please the Jedi knights and appear "trouble-free" that you offered no resistance when the knight took you by the arm.
You quietly allowed him to lead you to Stass Allie, who was waiting in the cockpit. When you perched on one of the empty seats, you at least expected an explanation, but the heavy and uneasy silence in the room was not broken until the space travel was complete.

As the ship prepared for landing, that familiar discomfort in your stomach flared up once more, but this time you managed to suppress it. You were running scenarios in your mind.
They would probably put you through a comprehensive health screening and then, after tons of questions, leave you at an orphanage.
But nothing went as you expected. Instead of the medbay, they began to lead you through the ornate, vast, and magnificent corridors of the Jedi Temple.

Finally, you arrived at the doors of the Jedi Council, which were far too large and grand for a child.
Stass Allie placed her hand lightly on your shoulder and guided you inside.
The air inside felt as heavy as lead. Those wise but judgmental gazes from all around seemed to pierce right through the fresh skin of a ten-year-old boy.

As you examined the familiar yet foreign faces of the Council members one by one, you realized that this interrogation would be the hardest test of your life.
Standing before you was not just a committee, but those legendary names who determined the fate of the entire galaxy.

Chapter Text

When the massive doors of the Jedi Council closed with a heavy roar, the air inside suddenly became as heavy as lead. The youth trapped in the frail body of a ten year old child, stood all alone in the middle of the high-ceilinged circular chamber.

Surrounding them in the high chairs sat the legendary figures they had only seen on screens and in books: Yoda, Mace Windu, Ki Adi Mundi, and others... But this time, they were not heroes; they were cold statues staring down at a suspect.

Mace Windu fixed his piercing gaze, shining like a purple light, upon the child.
"You must tell us where you came from," he said, his voice echoing with authority.
"What triggered such an uncontrolled surge of the Force, and in whose name are you here?"

The child parted their trembling lips
They wanted to shout at them with all their might, to explain everything, but their throat was knotted tight.
"I... I just want help," they whispered.
However, these words echoed in the ears of the Council members only as a series of strange and harsh sounds. The Jedi exchanged worried glances. The language barrier had built an impassable wall between two worlds.

The interrogation lasted for hours.
The Council members took turns reaching their minds toward the child's, trying to find an answer.
But with every touch, they winced at the foreign frequency and confusion that came with being from another universe. The child, meanwhile, grew more terrified by the minute, hunching their shoulders and shrinking further into themselves.

Mace Windu, in particular, was losing his patience. He stood up and began to pace around the child with heavy steps
Each step chimed like a sledgehammer on the marble floor
"You are hiding your mind from us," Windu said with icy seriousness.
"This silence feels not like innocence, but like a curtain of dark cunning."

As tears streamed down the child's cheeks, they could only shake their head.
The cramps in their stomach from hunger were now unbearable; they were dizzy, and the Coruscant lights filtering through the room's massive windows were spinning around them like a vortex.

Mace Windu stopped right in front of the child, leaning down to bring his gaze to their level.
"Give us a sign," he commanded.
This pressure turned into a silent but violent war of wills between them. As the child grew more afraid, the raw Force potential sleeping within them began to vibrate the air around them. But this was their last stand.

Their field of vision went dark, and Windu’s majestic silhouette turned into a pitch-black shadow in the light of the setting sun. The hours of interrogation, the days of hunger, and the unimaginable metamorphosis they had lived through were too much for their small body. Just before their knees hit the cold marble, their consciousness faded completely.

When they woke up, they were in a much smaller and simpler room. Beside the bed stood that familiar, upright figure, watching the infinite galactic traffic outside the window.
Mace Windu turned slowly, as if sensing the child had awakened. His face was as expressionless as a rock, but there was a flicker of curiosity in his gaze.

"The Council has reached a decision about you," Windu said quietly.
"No translation device fits your language, and the chaos in your mind is a riddle to us all. No master has agreed to train such an unstable and mysterious potential."

The child huddled in the bed, waiting for the next sentence. Would they be expelled? Would they be imprisoned?

"However," Windu said, taking a heavy step.
"Leaving you on your own is the same as leaving a ticking time bomb for the galaxy. Therefore, I will undertake your training myself. At least until we understand who you are and what you are hiding behind that mind of yours."

The young person was now Mace Windu’s Padawan. Their struggle for survival had not ended; it had just moved to a new dimension under the harshest discipline in the galaxy.

One month later

 

As time progressed, the walls created by the language barrier grew thicker.
Other Padawans in the Temple avoided approaching this "weird" child whose origins were unclear, who couldn't speak a word of Basic, and whose mind was as complex as a storm.
They were always alone in the cafeteria; in the library, they wandered like a shadow amidst the whispers of others. Being an outcast turned into a quiet ambition within them. There was only one way to prove they belonged: to meet Windu’s iron expectations.

Second Month

 

The character began spending eighteen hours a day working. After midnight, when everyone else had retired to their beds, they were alone in the dim training halls repeating lightsaber forms.
Their body had the delicate structure of a ten year old, but they whipped this body with the will of an adult.

One night, while trying to connect with the Force in the meditation room, they pushed their mind so hard that the pressure in their veins caused a nosebleed.
The guards who found them unconscious in the morning took the child to the infirmary for the first time.
But as soon as they came to, they ignored the medical droids' warnings and returned to the training ground. They were ready to sacrifice their soul, their health, and their childhood for a single approving look from Windu.

Third Month

 

By the end of the third month, the heavy atmosphere of the training hall became even sharper with Mace Windu's presence. Windu slowly spun his training saber, ignoring the tired, trembling knees and bruised eyes of the child before him.

"Not enough," Windu said, his voice echoing in the empty hall like ice.
"Your mind is still a ball of chaos. The Force does not guide a hesitant hand."

The child lifted their heavy lightsaber again. Their breath was wheezing. Windu suddenly attacked; his movements were so fast and perfect that the child felt their bones aching even while just trying to parry.
With a sharp move from Windu, the child was thrown meters back, their back hitting the hard wall.

They swallowed the metallic taste of blood in their mouth.
Their vision blurred as they tried to get up. Windu deactivated his saber and stood over them.
"You must rest. This ambition will not lead you to the light, only to ruin."

Though the child knew they didn't understand, they muttered in their own language with a trembling voice:
"I just... want to be accepted."

Not a single muscle moved on Windu’s face.
As he turned and walked away, the child collapsed to the floor again. This was the fourth time in three months they had ended up in the infirmary. Others in the Temple thought they were just an "overly ambitious foreigner"; nobody knew how they were selling their adult soul piece by piece just to say, "I belong here."

The cold marble of the Jedi Temple and the never-ending training halls had become a prison for the child, not a home, over the past three months. Becoming Mace Windu’s Padawan was like trying to climb the highest and most difficult wall in the galaxy.

While Coruscant’s endless traffic flowed outside the windows, a ten-year-old child continued to destroy themselves among the shadows of the Jedi Temple to avoid being crushed among giants.
By the end of the third month, the weight of the training had become not just a physical burden, but a state of spiritual erosion. Every "Inadequate" from Mace Windu was like a whip lash echoing in the child’s mind.

Three weeks later

 

That day’s training had been harder than ever. Windu had pushed his Padawan to the limit not just physically, but mentally; he hadn't stopped until the child couldn't even lift their saber anymore.
When the Master left the hall without saying a word, the child lay on the marble floor for a while, unable to even breathe.

Minutes later, managing to stand on trembling legs, they crawled toward the balcony railings.

The sun was setting over Coruscant’s endless, massive city silhouette. The sky had turned into a chaotic canvas where blood red, deep purple, and burnt orange intertwined.
The child gripped the railings tightly, trying to calm the wheezing rise and fall of their chest. With every breath they took, their lungs felt as if they were filled with broken glass.

As sweat dripped from their forehead onto their fresh wounds, the last rays of the setting sun illuminated the tired face of the ten-year-old.

This view was the very fictional world they had once watched with admiration on TV screens
But now, inside that world, they were an outcast and lonely stranger with aching bones.
As the sun set, dark shadows from thousands of levels below the city climbed upward, and the majestic towers of the Jedi Temple cast long, judgmental shadows.

As their breathing slowly leveled out, the cool wind brushed against their sweaty skin. At that moment, they felt how out of place they were in this immense beauty.
They were tearing themselves apart just to gain Mace Windu’s appreciation, just to be greeted as if they were "at home" instead of like a stranger in these cold temple corridors.

As the last line of the sun disappeared on the horizon, the child whispered into the darkness.
No one heard their voice, no one understood. Only the setting sun witnessed this silent and predatory ambition.
They straightened their shoulders, ignored their aching muscles, and returned to the dark training hall behind them, ready to break their own limits once more.

When the sun rose again tomorrow, they would have to be stronger. Or they would be completely crushed and destroyed under this ambition.

After the four month long hellish process, the first major turning point in the child’s life occurred when they least expected it.

While walking through the Temple corridors with Mace Windu in their usual silent and disciplined manner, two figures appeared from the opposite direction.
One was Obi-Wan Kenobi, his beard freshly trimmed, carrying a tired but wise smile; the other was Anakin Skywalker, who, despite being only eleven, vibrated the air with the Force energy he radiated.
They had just returned from a mission, their robes covered in dust.

Obi-Wan cast a curious glance at the small, tired child next to Windu. "Master Windu, we heard you had taken on a new Padawan. Is this them?"

Windu replied without pausing, continuing to walk as if talking about a very unimportant detail
"Yes. Their name is... unimportant, for now they are known by a foreign dialect.
They have potential but suffer from focus issues.
We are late for the Council meeting, Obi-Wan, let us go."

While Mace dismissed the child as if they were an object and hurried away with quick steps, Anakin stayed where he was.
His blue eyes were fixed on the child’s bruised eyes and trembling hands. The ten year old, intimidated by Anakin’s legendary presence, bowed their head and ran after their master.

Their friendship began in the training hall at midnight. While the child was repeating the
"basic defense" form Windu had given them for the hundredth time, a voice rose from the darkness in the corner of the hall.

"You are holding your elbow too high. If you do that, Mace will disarm you in seconds."

It was Anakin who emerged from the darkness.
He had a half-finished mechanical part and an oil rag in his hand. The child stopped in surprise, out of breath.
Anakin approached; according to the rules, he should have been in the dormitory at that hour, but he didn't care at all about the Temple’s strict discipline.

"I am Anakin," he said, as if the child before him didn't know him. "I know you are here every night. Why do you push yourself so hard? Mace is like a stone, you cannot please him."

The child muttered in English, knowing he wouldn't understand: "Because I have no other choice."

Anakin raised his eyebrows. "You have a strange language. But I understand the fear and ambition in your voice."

In the weeks that followed, these secret meetings became a routine.
The difference between them was like an abyss
The child was afraid to break even a single rule, following Windu’s every instruction like a sacred command.
They worked as if selling their soul, pushing themselves until they ended up in the infirmary.
Anakin was the exact opposite; he skipped training, snuck out of the library, and enjoyed breaking the rules
Despite this, the Force danced at Anakin’s fingertips.
He was always at the top despite working little; the child bled for every inch of progress.

Still, there was one thing that united the
Being a foreigner. Anakin was a former slave who had come from the sands of Tatooine, crushed under the burden of being the "chosen one."
The child was a ghost who had fallen from another dimension, trapped by a language no one understood. Neither belonged to the sterile and cold order of the Temple.

While Anakin laughed at the child’s discipline,
he secretly showed them his own techniques; the child looked with admiration at Anakin’s attitude of not caring about the rules.
Even though other Padawans in the Temple ostracized them, under the dim lights of midnight, these two "misfit" souls one a slave to the rules and the other intoxicated by freedom began to form the purest friendship in the galaxy.

Every time the sun set over Coruscant, while the child sat out of breath on the balcony after training,
Anakin would come to their side and they would share the silence without a word. Even if they didn't fully understand each other's languages, they understood each other in the common language of "not belonging."

After months of sleepless nights, bleeding fingertips, and tireless repetitions on the verge of mental collapse, the fruit of their labor had begun to show.
The child not only understood Mace Windu’s harsh commands but could also adapt those foreign sounds that tore at their throat to the rhythm of the Galactic Basic language.

One evening, on the balcony of the training hall, they sat side by side against the sunset as always.
As Anakin fixed a small droid part in his hand, the child stretched their aching shoulders and took a deep breath.
There was no trace of the timid, foreign child from months ago; their body still belonged to a ten year old, but their gaze was sharpened with a discipline of steel, just like their master Mace Windu.

Anakin stopped his work and looked at the orange clouds in the sky.
"You are ready for tomorrow’s trials, aren't you?" he asked with his usual relaxed attitude.
"Don't worry about the rules so much. The Force doesn't look at how much you sweat, but how much you trust it."

The child smiled faintly. This was a sight that others in the Temple rarely witnessed.
They turned to Anakin and replied, their words still a bit accented but clear:

"Not everyone... is chosen like you, Anakin. I... have to earn it."

Anakin paused in surprise. This was the longest and most meaningful Basic sentence the character had ever formed. "Wow," Anakin said, grinning widely.
"You can speak! My master Obi-Wan had started to think you were mute."

The child tapped Anakin on the shoulder; this was a silent affirmation of the deepening friendship between them.
One was rising by breaking the rules, the other by clinging to them.
But at that moment, under the setting sun of Coruscant, there were no master-apprentice relationships or prophecies.
There were only two foreigners, two friends, and the unwavering trust they had for each other.

"Thank you, Anakin," added the child, turning their gaze back to the horizon.
"For not... leaving me alone."

Anakin put his arm around his friend’s shoulder and pulled them toward himself.
"We are different, friend. The Temple might not understand us, but we understand each other. And no matter how hard Mace pushes you, don't forget that I have your back."

As the sun disappeared behind the massive skyscrapers, leaving its place to the artificial lights of Coruscant,
the two Jedi candidates stood side by side against the darkness.
After those dark months of working as if selling their soul, the character felt they truly "existed" for the first time in this universe.
No longer just a fan or a survivor, but a part of this galaxy, this order, and above all, Anakin Skywalker’s closest friend.

Chapter Text

Two years later.

The reader was now twelve years old. In the Jedi Temple, they were no longer known as the "Outsider," but as someone shaped by the steel like discipline of Mace Windu a student widely expected to become a brilliant Jedi in the future.
Mace was no longer as strict as he once was; in fact, he frequently entrusted you to Obi-Wan and Anakin while he departed on missions.

During the time you spent with Anakin and obi wan you tried to break the dark gears of fate.
You gave everything you had to prevent those small, seemingly insignificant events that would eventually drag Anakin toward the dark side.
Just when you thought you had succeeded, that you had shifted the course of events, the universe seemed to be set back on its tracks by an invisible hand.
No matter what you did, the result was always the same.

As your efforts to change the future turned into a futile struggle, your mind became haunted not just by the future, but by nightmares that felt far more real than they should have been.

One night, you fell into the clutches of the most terrifying dream you had ever experienced.

The dream began with a wild, raw, and uncontrollable speed. You found yourself beneath the blood red horizon of a volcanic world Mustafar.
The sky looked as if it were woven from soot and ash. The air smelled of sulfur, burnt metal, and scorched stone; every breath scratched your lungs, leaving a bitter taste in your throat. The black stones beneath your feet were cracking from the heat, and in the distance, bubbling rivers of lava glowed like hell itself.

The figure standing before you was not the Anakin who once joked with you, whose eyes sparkled when he smiled. He was a machine of destruction buried inside black armor, having sacrificed even his last shards of sanity to hatred. "Darth Vader."

The sound of mechanical breathing echoed with an ominous rhythm that drowned out even the roar of volcanic eruptions.
When Vader ignited his blood-red lightsaber, the pure hatred radiating into the air physically recoiled you.
It was as if all the light within the Force had been sucked away in an instant, leaving only a sharp, suffocating darkness.
You tried to focus your mind, remembering the Vaapad style Mace Windu had taught you, but Vader’s presence was like a bottomless black hole swallowing your focus.

“You couldn't protect her,” Vader said.

His voice was deep, metallic, and dead, as if rising from within a grave. Every word echoed like a hammer blow to your mind.

“Padmé died because of you!!
You were supposed to be by her side. But you were only busy with saving yourself!”

This accusation filled you with the rusty taste of betrayal and the stifling weight of mourning
You felt as if something had shattered right in the center of your chest. But there was no time to succumb to grief. Vader lunged forward like a shadow.
The first strike of the red blade nearly shattered your defense. The techniques you had worked on day and night for two years, the discipline you learned from Mace, remained like a paper shield against his savage and unpredictable attacks.

This was no longer a duel; it was a slow, ruthless, and inevitable execution.

As you parried Vader’s every move, you felt your bones aching and your muscles straining as if they were about to tear. He used the Force not just as a guide, but as a weapon. He hurled volcanic rocks at you, slamming you ruthlessly against walls.
Every blow resonated through your body, and the taste of warm blood rose in your mouth. Your lightsaber appeared a little dimmer, a little more inadequate with every clash against the red.

“Anakin, please!” you screamed.

Your voice broke and vanished in the roar of the volcano.

“This isn't you!”

Vader’s only answer was a harder, more savage assault. With a single blow, he sent your saber flying from your hand, then knocked you to the ground with a powerful push.
You lay on your back upon the pitch black stones at the edge of the lava rivers.
As desperation pierced you like a cold knife, Vader towered over you. The heat of the red blade scorched your face, searing your skin.

Then, he reached out his hand.

An invisible force gripped your throat and lifted you into the air. Your breath cut off.
As your feet struggled in the void, the pressure on your throat increased. The pain wasn't just physical; what truly tore you apart was the way Anakin once your closest friend looked at you with such hatred.
That gaze was suffocating your soul more than your body. Your lungs burned, your vision darkened, and the frantic beating of your own heart rang in your ears.

Vader brought his mask close to your face. Behind the black visors, there was a void stripped of humanity.

“You should have left this galaxy while you could,” he whispered with mechanical coldness. “Now… you will die as a mere nothing.”

Then, a sharp, sickening crack was heard.

You felt your neck slowly breaking.

Your scream tore from your chest with the horror of the pain.

That imaginary agony bypassed the boundaries of the dream and leaked into reality.

You bolted upright in bed, clutching your throat, drenched in sweat. You were breathless; your heart was pounding as if it wanted to shatter your ribcage.
You could still feel the imaginary ache left by that pressure on your neck, shivering as if you carried the traces of Vader’s ice cold hatred on your skin.
Even the silence of the room reminded you of his mechanical breath.
The dark corners had turned into crevices where an armored silhouette might step out and choke you again.

Even while continuing your training in the practice area under the first pale lights of morning, your mind was still in that hell.
Even the weight of the training saber in your hand reminded you of the defeat in the dream. Just then, Anakin approached you with his usual relaxed, warm demeanor.

“Hey, reader! I guess you've increased the discipline even more since Mace left,” he said, placing his hand on your shoulder with his usual sincerity and a smile.

Remembering the moment that black gloved hand gripped your throat in the dream, you recoiled instantly.
The rising fear within you involuntarily showed on your face. In your eyes, there was not just terror, but a deep and fragile sadness. You couldn't say a single word. Avoiding his gaze, you quickly walked away.

Anakin’s hand remained suspended in the air.

He couldn't understand what had happened.
This sudden, cold withdrawal of yours triggered an old, deep seated fear of abandonment within him.
His brows furrowed
he then followed you and stopped you in the corridor.

“Hey… reader, what are you doing?” he asked.

This time his voice was hurt, sheepish, and vulnerable. Your back was turned to him; your shoulders were trembling slightly.

“If I hurt your feelings or did something wrong during the lightsaber adjustment yesterday, I am truly sorry. Please… please say something. Let me make it up to you.”

You grit your teeth. When his pure, heartfelt apology collided with the image of the monster in the dream, your heart felt as if it were split in two.
Without turning around, you murmured with a voice knotted in your throat:

“It’s fine, Anakin. I just… want to be alone today.”

Then you hurried away What you left behind was the shock and guilt on Anakin’s face.
This image pained you, but you couldn't find the strength in yourself to turn back. You felt the inevitable darkness awaiting the galaxy drawing closer every day, and this knowledge placed a burden on your shoulders too heavy to carry.

That day, for the first time, you truly understood that your admiration for the Star Wars universe had turned into a curse.
Knowing the future, combined with the fact that you could not change it, was not a blessing but a torture that hollowed a person out.

Weeks passed, but the mark left by that nightmare continued to ache like a wound that refused to close.
The more you avoided Anakin, the more an invisible rope seemed to bind you tighter to him.
Even hearing his laughter created a knot in which guilt and fear were entwined.

One evening, you were sitting alone on one of the back balconies of the Temple.
The endless lights of Coruscant flickered like stars below, and the distant hum of the city hung in the air like a vibration suspended in the sky.
Your fingers, touching the cold metal railings, were numb. Just as you thought you could finally breathe a little, you felt that familiar and heavy presence right behind you.

Anakin.

He was still young, but when he was near, you involuntarily felt smaller, more vulnerable.

“Are you here again?” he asked.

His voice was lower, harsher than usual. Startled, you turned around to find that he had already come right up to you.
His eyes seemed to be searching for an answer on your face; it was as if he were trying to force open not your words, but your mind.

“I was just… getting some air, Anakin,” you said, looking away.

Anakin slammed his hand hard against the railing, blocking your escape route. He leaned over you with his body.
In the last few weeks, he had begun to seem taller, broader shouldered, and more dominant to you than he actually was.
His shadow falling over you swallowed you completely.

“You’ve been looking at me like I’m a monster for weeks,” he said.

His voice was trembling; but this was not the tremor of anger. There was something more frightening inside it an uncontrollable possessiveness.

“Why are you distancing yourself from me? I am the only one who understands you, the only one who protects you.”

Suddenly, his hand reached for the back of your neck.

This was not the light touch a friend leaves on a shoulder
It was tight, defining, and commanding like a claw holding something it feared would escape.

“I want to know what you’re hiding from me,” he whispered. There was a faint darkening in his eyes.
“You can’t hide anything from me We are one, do you understand? No matter what the others say, you are by my side. I won’t let anyone tear you away from me. If necessary, I will protect you even from yourself.”

You struggled to breathe under that warm but oppressive hand on your neck.
Anakin smiled; but that smile felt as soulless to you as the mask of the dark silhouette you saw in your dream.

“Now come,” he said, pulling you gently toward him
“We aren’t going anywhere. You will stay here, by my side, forever.”

As you walked in front of him, you felt those burning eyes on your back. The love of your closest friend was slowly turning into a cage.
And you realized with horror that the doors of this cage were softly closing and locking.

The distorted balance between you and Anakin shattered at an uncertain hour in a dim corner of the Jedi Temple, when the evening sun gave way to the artificial lights of Coruscant.

Anakin’s obsession was no longer an admiration; it had turned into an all consuming storm
He interpreted your efforts to stay away as "shyness" or "the hesitation of a forbidden feeling." He believed in this story he had built in his mind so much that he was in no position to see the truth.

“Stop looking at me like that,” he said suddenly.

His voice had softened with a strange affection, but even that affection was suffocating.

“I’m tired of you trying to hide what’s between us. You don’t need to be afraid. I will protect you.”

You shrank a little more against the cold stone wall you were leaning on.

“Anakin, I… I just—”

He didn't let you finish your sentence.

He took another step, completely eliminating your personal space. He placed one hand on the wall right beside your head; with the other hand, he lifted your chin up in a gentle but non-negotiable manner.
In his eyes, there was no one seeing your dull fear, desperation, or withdrawal at that moment. He saw only his own desire, his own victory.

Then he leaned in and kissed you clumsily.

This was not one of those romantic first kisses told in stories. Your stomach churned.
Your body went stiff instantly. You didn't close your eyes you couldn't. Looking into Anakin’s closed eyes right in front of you, the only thing you felt was the physical manifestation of the suffocating feeling from your dream. Your heart was beating fast; but this was the throb of an instinct to flee, not of love.

When Anakin pulled back, there was a triumphant smile on his face. He mistook your frozen state for a silence born of happiness, not shock.

“I knew it,” he whispered, leaning his forehead against yours. “You felt the same thing. You are no longer alone. You never will be.”

You wanted to open your mouth and tell the truth.

"I am not in love with you. I am afraid of you."

You wanted to scream this, but you saw that dangerous glint in Anakin’s eyes; you felt that passionate darkness ready to control, to possess, and if necessary, to burn everything down.
You feared that if you rejected him now, you would further accelerate his path to darkness.

So you remained silent.

You said nothing.

Stuck in Anakin’s arms, you only looked at the ground.
As he drew you even closer in a possessive manner, you knew that this silence was actually your own death warrant. Anakin thought he was a happy lover; you, however, were now a prisoner of your own silence.

Three years later

 

Reader was now fifteen years old and seemed to have learned how to breathe within this distorted “relationship.” Occasionally, they even enjoyed Anakin’s attention, but this was not true breathing; it was only learning how to delay suffocation.
Anakin’s love had turned into a stifling vine winding around your life, slowly closing every gap.

His desire had now become a physical siege as well as an emotional one.
Constant contact, fingers that never let go of your hand, hugs that lasted longer than necessary, gazes that held you bound with an almost invisible chain
One night, just as you were about to fall asleep, your door opened. Anakin, gliding in like a shadow in the darkness of the room, came to your side without saying a word.
Then he got into bed and took you in his arms.

You couldn't move.

The weight settling on your shoulders pressured not just your body, but your soul.
As Anakin’s steady breaths burned your neck, you stayed awake until morning, staring blankly at the ceiling.
As the darkness of the room slowly turned to gray, you hadn't rested for even a single minute.

During the day, life had turned into an impossible balancing act.

On one hand, there was the training continuing under Mace Windu’s harsh and disciplined gaze.
Every mistake meant drawing more attention, being questioned more.
On the other hand, you were preparing for meetings with senators, carrying the weight of this great duty on your shoulders.
This was a great honor; but at the same time, it meant standing under Palpatine’s measuring, weighing gaze and dealing with Windu’s skeptical approach.
And then there was Anakin: the one who cornered you between lessons, demanding to know
“Why are you so distant today?”, the dark love that wanted to possess even your time, your gaze, and your silence.

You were being pulled back and forth like a puppet.
You tried to be a perfect Jedi to win Mace Windu’s trust,
you hid your true feelings behind a mask to avoid angering Anakin, and you silenced your own soul so as not to reveal your true identity to Palpatine.

Now, every morning you woke up in Anakin’s arms was not a new beginning for you, but the continuation of your captivity for another day.
From the inside, you knew that this fake peace would one day surely be shattered with violence. But until then, you were condemned to act as if “everything was fine” with a fake smile.

One evening, that heavy, dark rock you had been accumulating inside for years shifted.
With the first tear sliding from your eyes, all the dams broke.

“I can’t breathe, Anakin!” you screamed.
Your voice was breaking between sobs. “I love you, so much… but this love no longer feels like an embrace, it feels like an execution.
Your suffocating sense of possessiveness exhausts me I can’t go on anymore It feels like everything is coming down on me… you, Master Windu, the exams… I have no strength left to endure.”

Anakin recoiled as if he had been hit by an invisible blow.

His usual self-assured stance cracked instantly
As your sobs filled the room, he approached with cautious steps, like approaching a piece of glass about to break.
He placed his hands on your face
His fingers trembled slightly as he wiped the salty, warm tears sliding down your reddened cheeks.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered.

His voice was like a tired and cracked echo of the fierce storm inside him.
In his eyes was something you had almost never seen before: compassion and a deep regret.

He leaned his forehead against yours.
He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, as if trying to draw your pain into himself.

“I promise,” he said, his voice low but firm. “I will love you without suffocating you I will give you space to breathe I won’t let the fear of loss destroy us.”

As you collapsed against Anakin’s chest, for the first time you felt his touch not as a chain, but truly as a sanctuary. The rapid thumping of his heart echoed right by your ear, and the warmth of his arms felt more like it was holding you this time rather than choking you.
That night, even the harsh, metallic coolness of Coruscant was broken by such a soft, such a human warmth for the first time.

Chapter Text

The Senate building's top floor office resembled a cathedral under the orange light of the setting sun.
Every detail in the room, from the antique statues reflecting Palpatine's refined taste to the expensive artworks brought from distant star systems,had been meticulously chosen. The reason for Mace Windu and your presence there was Chancellor Palpatine’s personal wish to discuss new security protocols with Jedi representatives.
Recently, Palpatine had begun showing a special, almost fatherly interest in you among the Jedi who "protected" him.

"Master Windu," Palpatine said, gracefully gesturing toward the hologram files on his desk.
"There is a slight discrepancy in the security unit reports. It would be best for you to personally look at the main terminal in the archives to resolve this confusion the young Padawan can stay here and keep me company; we shall have a cup of tea until you return."

Windu let his sharp eyes linger on Palpatine for a moment. His skeptical nature sought a hidden agenda in every move the Chancellor made; however, the Chancellor’s request seemed reasonable within protocol.
"Very well, Chancellor. I shall return shortly," he said, adjusting his robes, and left the room.

When you were left alone in the room with Palpatine, you felt a strange, almost tangible static electricity in the air. Palpatine gestured toward an elegant, velvet-upholstered chair and, from a silver tray on the desk, placed one of the sweet fruits native to his home world of Naboo onto your plate.

"Eat, child, you work too hard Windu’s training... is exhausting," Palpatine said with fatherly affection in his voice. "It saddens me to see young people with special talents like yours having their souls withered under the name of discipline. The Jedi are busy raising nothing but sword-wielding soldiers; yet your potential is far deeper."

As you took the fruit, you noticed your hands trembling slightly.
"My master only wants what is best for me, sir," you murmured, trying to suppress the hesitation in your voice.

Palpatine leaned back slowly; his eyes narrowed as if looking into the darkest depths of your soul. "The Jedi always speak of goodness, but they feed on fear I see that massive love within you, your loyal bond to someone... Others call this a weakness, a darkness, don’t they?"

You swallowed. Palpatine was not showing any dark intent yet; on the contrary, he spoke as if he were the only person who understood you and saw the heavy pressure upon you. "They say it is a mistake."

"A mistake?" Palpatine laughed softly; the sound was as thin and venomous as a snake’s hiss.
"To love is never a mistake. Fearing to lose what you love is what makes you strong. If that fear ever consumes you, remember that the only power capable of saving everything is not found written on the dusty shelves of the Jedi libraries."

Just then, the door swung open.
When Anakin and Obi-Wan entered, the heavy, breathtaking atmosphere in the room dissipated instantly. Anakin’s piercing gaze immediately shifted to you, then to the treat in front of you, and finally to the twisted, satisfied expression on Palpatine’s face.

Anakin’s jaw tightened, his hands clenched into fists. Sharing such an "intimate" moment with Palpatine had triggered the burning jealousy within him, but he was forced to swallow his anger due to Obi-Wan’s presence. Averting his gaze, he reported the situation:

"Chancellor, excuse us. There is an emergency. By order of the Council, assignments have changed reader and Master Kenobi are departing immediately to suppress the rebellion in the Outer Rim Master Windu and I will remain here."

As you stood up, you noticed the secret, triumphant glint in Palpatine’s eyes.
Palpatine was watching both Anakin’s silent jealousy and the effect of his manipulation over you with great pleasure.

"May your path be clear, young Padawan," Palpatine said as you were leaving. "Remember, sometimes the greatest strength is hidden within our deepest fears."

As you walked down the corridor, the taste of the fruit Palpatine had offered turned bitter as poison in your mouth. The dark side had not yet fully shown its face, but it had already hooked its claws into your heart.

Before falling into this universe, back when you were a spectator, you had never looked at the Jedi with full admiration. To you, the Jedi Order was a tragic philosophical error rather than aesthetic swordplay. You were aware that Palpatine was a pure tyrant, but you had never looked at the Jedi with their arrogance, their coldness that rejected emotions, and their state of being detached from the galaxy with "innocent" eyes.

However, the years spent here the echoing corridors of the Temple and Mace Windu’s iron discipline had practically reconstructed your mind. To survive as a stranger, you had imitated the "right" things so much that eventually, you had turned into the very thing you imitated.
The fear of being ostracized by the Order and being left alone had caused you to bury the critical thinking structure you brought from your old world deep down as a survival mechanism. Now, you were the "exemplary student" the Council wanted; but this was merely a lie growing in your mind.

These recent visits to Palpatine were bringing those deeply buried seeds of doubt back to the surface.

As you walked toward the Temple with Obi-Wan and Anakin, two different voices clashed in your mind. On one side, Windu’s voice, telling you every day to "release your emotions, detach from your attachments"; on the other, the Chancellor’s whisper, soft as velvet but just as poisonous.

"Master Windu is very... strict, isn't he?" Anakin said, noticing your silence. His voice carried traces of the hidden tension from Palpatine’s office.

"He is just doing his duty, Anakin," you replied, using the memorized Jedi codes like a shield. But a voice inside whispered: No, he is just afraid. He is afraid of everything he cannot control.

Entering through the massive gates of the Temple, you looked at the marble pillars.
This place no longer felt like a sanctuary to you. This was an aristocratic cult that suppressed emotions, made love feel like a crime, and turned a blind eye to the injustices in the galaxy.
You could no longer ignore that fine line between the corruption of the Senate and the Jedi’s blind service to that corruption.

That night, as you packed your belongings, you looked at your reflection in the mirror.
The Jedi robe you wore no longer felt like a uniform, but a costume. Palpatine had reminded you not only of the darkness but also of your lost, "inquisitive" identity.

The Jedi are not innocent, you thought as you placed a lightsaber part into your bag. But Palpatine is not the salvation either.

The person from the old world inside you knew that the end of the Jedi Order was approaching.
You could see that the arrogant stance of the Order was preparing their own destruction. The wave of "obedience" that had washed over your mind for years was slowly receding under the Chancellor’s manipulations; underneath, the old, skeptical, and fear filled reality was emerging.

When Anakin appeared at the door, you immediately put your "obedient Padawan" mask back on.

"The Outer Rim is dangerous," Anakin said, coming over and holding your arm possessively.
"I wish I could be by your side. Obi-Wan will protect you but... be careful nonetheless."

You looked into the pure love in Anakin’s eyes. Anakin was also a victim of this rotten system.
The Jedi saw him as a weapon, and Palpatine saw him as a pawn. You were caught between the two, crushed by the weight of the truths you knew.

As you set out for your mission, you took one last look at the magnificent towers of the Temple.
You looked like an exemplary student, but the old philosophical questioning had returned within you.
The darkness that would bring the end of the Jedi was not only outside, but hidden in the very arrogance of these marble halls and you were right in the center of this destruction.

On one of the dusty and forgotten planets of the Outer Rim, the operation chasing rebel groups had become more complicated than expected. While Obi Wan remained in the center of the town to meet with local leaders, you had ventured toward the rocky valleys for reconnaissance.

A violent sandstorm on the planet's surface forced you to take refuge in a massive cave entrance.
The moment you stepped inside, the predatory howl of the sandstorm outside gave way to a tomb like silence
The air inside was so thick that with every breath, a dusty history filled your lungs
The walls rose with sharp and geometric angles, looking more like they were carved by a giant hand rather than being a natural formation.

As you moved through the arched corridors, you noticed ancient runes glowing beneath the layer of dust on the floor. These signs were like the silent screams of an architecture fed by the dark side of the Force
The light of your saber hit the massive obsidian stalactites hanging from the ceiling and shattered, casting distorted shadows around.

As you moved deeper toward the heart of the cave, you began to hear a whisper in your ears.
This voice was not the wind, but an ancient consciousness seeping through the stones.
You paused when the path opened into a massive underground lake. The surface of the water was as motionless and pitch-black as a mirror; it was as if it wanted to swallow the soul of anyone who looked into it.

Right in the center of the lake, a narrow stone bridge rising from the water called you to that altar.
As your footsteps echoed on this bridge, you felt the pressure on your shoulders increasing with every step, and the inner peace Mace Windu had taught you slowly cracking.

At the end of the bridge, you saw a black chest that looked as if it had sprouted from the earth itself rather than sitting on an altar.
The chest did not reflect light; instead, it absorbed every bit of illumination around it. The engravings upon it were throbbing as if they would burn your fingertips the moment you reached out.

You still had a chance to turn back, but the "stranger" inside could not leave without knowing the truth behind this darkness
As you approached the chest, that sinister energy coming from the depths of the corridor began to be felt on the back of your neck like the breath of a predator. The chest was there, waiting for your touch with absolute patience.

the chest sitting in the middle of that pitch black darkness was not just an object it breathed there like a forgotten sin of the galaxy
When you placed your hand on the ice cold lid of the chest, a sinister shiver spread from your fingertips to your soul. You slowly lifted the lid.

The moment the chest opened, the silence of the cave was shattered by the shrill sound of a thousand glass shards. You reached for the black, metallic hilt lying inside
The second your fingers met the coldness of the metal, a massive explosion occurred in your mind.

This was not just a weapon; the crimson crystal inside was screaming with the pain of the torture inflicted upon it. That shrill, ear piercing wail of the crystal echoed not in your ears, but directly inside your bones
The thousand year old hatred of the saber's former owner wrapped around your arms like a poisonous vine
The fear of the slaughtered and the endless rage of the killer passed before your eyes like a film strip
You reached for the Sith Holocron sitting right beside it; what you felt was not hatred, but absolute coldness.

This coldness was the coldness of a void where the sun never rose, an ancient tomb
When you took the holocron into your hand, you felt all the warmth within the Force being drained, and even the air around you freezing. A terrifying, whisper filled silence seeped into your mind; it was as if thousands of dead Sith Lords were celebrating the arrival of a new pawn.

In terror, you hid the saber and the holocron under your robes. Now you had only one goal to leave this cursed place at once
Without looking back, you began to run across the stone bridge over that dark water
As you neared the cave exit, you began to hear the howl of the sandstorm outside once again. You were within reach of light, reality, and Obi Wan’s side.

However, right in front of the exit, you felt the air suddenly grow heavy
Your footsteps slowed as if stuck in mud
A massive shadow appeared in the dim light at the mouth of the cave. The rhythmic sound of breathing, every note of which cracked like a whip in your soul, drowned out the noise of the wind and sand, filling the cave.

Darth Vader stood right before you like a wall.
This time was not just a dream or a vision. The Temple had placed your greatest fear right in front of you
As Vader approached with heavy and mechanical steps, he ignited his saber, glowing with the purest and most terrifying shade of red
As you tried to fight back with your training saber, you collapsed to your knees with the first blow
His black visors stared directly into your eyes, as if seeing that forbidden burden under your robes and the fresh darkness piercing your soul.

"Your loyalty is a lie," Vader said, his voice echoing off the walls of the temple
"The Jedi use you as a tool, and you worship them like a slave. But the saber in your pocket... that is your true face."

"No!" you speak, trembling as you take a step back. "You... are not real!"

Vader lunged at you with sudden agility, as if the cause of all his troubles stood before him
"Am I real enough now, Reader?" he asked mockingly. As you were thrown from place to place with the Force and hit the marble pillars, falling to the ground, you felt every bone break and your lungs burst.
None of the forms Mace Windu taught worked against this pure brutality. While writhing in pain, your hand instinctively went to that secret compartment under your robes.

The moment the hilt of the Sith saber touched your hand, all that dark energy in the temple flooded your veins.
You had to make a choice either stay loyal to the Jedi teachings and be crushed under this monster, or survive by using what was forbidden.

You screamed as Vader raised his saber to deliver the final blow
But this was not a cry for help it was an explosion of rage. You ignited not your own lightsaber, but that ancient saber you found in the Sith temple a blood red light filled the room.

The sound of the two red sabers clashing shook the temple to its foundations
For the first time in your life, you set aside fear and used your hatred as a weapon
You met Vader’s attacks with the same brutality. At that moment, you were fighting not like a Jedi Padawan, but like a shadow seeking vengeance.

Vader’s saber scorched your shoulder; the smell of burning flesh and an unbearable pain filled the room. Despite the pain, you did not stop
"I won't be like you!" you cried out, swinging the saber toward Vader’s mask.

The moment the saber hit the mask, Vader dissipated like smoke
The temple suddenly fell silent. The crimson mist receded, and you were left all alone in the blood red light, drenched in sweat, with the forbidden saber trembling in your hand and the deep burn on your shoulder.

The Sith temple had tested you, and you had passed this test in a way the Jedi would never accept by embracing the darkness.

When you heard Obi Wan’s voice from outside asking, "Are you in there?", you deactivated the Sith saber in a great panic and hid it in your robe
Trying to hide the heavy burn on your shoulder with your robes, you walked toward the sunlight, limping as if you hadn't just left your soul at that dark altar
You didn't look back as you left the temple, but you knew; you were no longer just the Jedi's Padawan, you were a dark part of that temple.

You brushed yourself off, put on your usual "exemplary Padawan" mask, and steadied your breathing.

"There you are," Obi-Wan said, appearing over the rocks. He had his usual calm but watchful expression
"I had trouble sensing you in the Force The storm must have weakened our connection."

You looked into Obi-Wan’s clear, blue eyes. You were telling your master the biggest lie of your life.

"The cave was very deep, Master," you said, your voice remaining surprisingly steady. "I'm just a bit tired."

Obi-Wan scanned the surroundings skeptically, but the oppressive aura of the Temple had already fallen silent beneath the sands. "I see. It is time to return. I'm sure Anakin has turned the Temple upside down in your absence."

As you walked toward the ship, you could feel that slight coldness radiating from the holocron beneath your robes. You were no longer just a Jedi Padawan you were a spy carrying Sith secrets in your heart,
a stranger, and perhaps a secret architect of future destruction Your faith in the innocence of the Jedi Order had already been shaken now, in your hand, you held a forbidden power that would shake this rotten system to its core.

And worst of all, keeping this secret gave you far more confidence than honesty ever did.