The Force.

The ever present, the all-knowing. The creator and destroyer of life. It had no body, no mind, yet a will of its own. It influenced everything; nothing happened withouts its approval. It surged with power, power that was neither good or evil, light nor dark. It just was. It did as it pleased.

So when the Force entered the Guardian, he was not surprised.

From his position on the floor, the Guardian stirred from his meditation. If the Force was visible, someone who walked into the room would see a vortex of light surrounding the Azanti, buzzing and chattering in an unknown tongue.

Core Neori opened a vivid green eye and gazed about the sparse room. A bed lay against the wall, covered with a slight coat of mold. A small chest rested underneath, padlocked and chained shut. There was no door, only a round opening that never failed to look like the throat of some gigantic beast, the pathways through the temple its digestive system. The moist cave walls kept the room at a chilling temperature, and he grimaced when a drop of water splattered between his eyes. The abandoned temple was not on his list of preferred living spots. But it was hidden, and had been found by no one.

Sad, really. He'd been here for a thousand years, and had not had a meal since before he had landed on Bakura. He was, in all honesty, quite famished.

The Force floated all around him, tickling his outstretched proboscises. He smiled.

"So." His voice vibrated through the still room, a deep timber, unused. "You wish me to leave. Why now?"

If the Force answered, only Core heard it. "Yes," he responded. "I have seen what you have described. It is...disturbing, to say the least. I fear that not even my intervention will stop it."

Core paused, listening, then chuckled. "What you say is true, my friend. There are indeed many paths." He frowned. "However, I doubt the boy even knows of his own importance. If he is indeed as powerful as I believe he is, it will not long before it is known and he is tempted by his power. If it hasn't happened already."

The vortex of Force shifted slightly, and Core scoffed. "Show him? You know the risks of showing the future-" He hesitated as the Force chirped in his ear. "Ah. I see. What about the teacher?"

Core was confused. "He must see as well? And the others?" He nodded. "So be it."

The Azanti stood, stretching his cramped muscles. He closed his eyes once more, spreading out his consciousness outward, searching. Where are you?

There. On a VCX-100 freighter, hovering around the Lothal system. He saw the signatures of the crew, counting. Yes, they were all there. Opening his eyes he strode toward the bed and pulled out the locked chest. With a wave of his hand the chains snaked away and the lid popped open. He pulled out his twin lightsabers, the hilts fitting into the worn grooves of his hands. He ignited them and the room was flooded with a purple hue.

"I'm coming," the Guardian whispered. "Ezra Bridger."

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Light Years away, Ezra Bridger shivered.

He glanced up from the holochess game and looked around. Deep in the bowels of the ship he could hear the hiss of paint from Sabine's latest project, Zeb and Chopper were aboard the Phantom, making repairs, and Hera was piloting the Ghost. Nothing was out of the ordinary.

Yet he couldn't shake the feeling that something-or someone- had scanned its gaze over the Ghost.

But who was it looking for?

"Ezra?" He glanced up at Kanan, who was busy stroking his beard, gazing at the board. Or at least, Ezra thought he was. The bandage covering his eyes had slipped enough to see the inflamed red skin across his face. Ezra cringed, the guilt he had worked to bury resurfacing. It was his fault Kanan was blind, that Kana would never get to see again.

And he might never forgive himself.

"Ezra?" Kana's voice held a note of concern, and Ezra responded, "Yeah?"

"You okay?"

"Fine."

Kanan's brow furrowed. "Don't lie, I can feel you're upset. What's wrong?"

Ezra sighed. He ran a head over his newly-shaved head, and it felt weird without his long strands of hair. It had been a spontaneous movement on his part. One day he had attacked it with Hera's clippers. He didn't really know why he had done it. Maybe to try to remove some of the weight off his shoulders. Whatever the reason, shaving his head hadn't helped, and only gained him curious stares from his friends. "I...Just for a moment, I felt like someone was watching us."

Kanan frowned. "Watching us how?"

"It felt like someone was probing my mind or something."

"Probing...for what?"

Ezra shrugged, then remembered Kanan couldn't see him. He never would again. "I don't know."

His master hummed. "An Inquisitor, maybe? The Sith Lord we encountered on…"

He didn't finish his sentence, and a fresh wave of guilt threatened to crush him. It was also his fault that Ashoka was...Ashoka…

He swallowed. "It...it didn't feel evil. If it wasn't an Inquisitor or the Sith, and if it definitely wasn't Maul...then who was it?"

"I don't know. But from now on I want you to examine your shields every day and make sure they're in place. We both will."

Ezra was saved from a response by the arrival of Hera, the automatic doors announcing her presence. "Ezra, I need you to go help Zeb and Chopper on the Phantom. Seems there's something wrong with the navigation system.

Ezra nodded and left the room with a surprising lack of complaining.

When Ezra was gone,Hera sank next to Kanan with a sigh. "How is he?"

Kanan rubbed his unseeing eyes. "I'm not sure. He's been blocking me lately. There's hardly a moment when his shield aren't up. Just before you came in he was telling me that he felt like something was probing his mind."

Hera looked at him in alarm. "Was there something-"

Kanan shook his head. "I didn't feel anything." The Jedi leaned his elbows on the table, disrupting the unfinished game. " I think...I think he's just being paranoid. We're still so high-strung, especially Ezra."

Hera touched Kana's shoulder, and he leaned into her warmth. "What happened there, Kanan?" she whispered. "What happened to Ezra?"

She wished she could take back her words. The Jedi tensed, sitting up. "Hera, I've told you all I know," he said curtly. "But Ezra…He won't talk me, Hera. He's ignoring the bond, I don't know how to fix this, I don't know how to help him if he won't tell me what's wrong!"

Hera clutched Kanan as the man ran his fingers through his slightly-greasy hair. "Just give him time, love," she whispered soothingly into his ear. "Let him work through his thoughts. He'll heal. We all will."

Kanan groped for her hand, and Hera set her smaller hand gently into his. He squeezed, their calluses rubbing together. "You're right," he breathed.

She smiled her stunning smile. One that Kana would never see again. "I often am."

Kana chuckled. He laid a soft kiss on her hand as she stood. "I'm going to check on the kids. Need anything while I'm up?"

Kanan shook his head. "Go ahead. I'll stay here and...meditate."

As Hera's footsteps faded he took a deep breath and opened his mind.

The Force flowed around him; reaching out, he could feel the signatures of the crew, tiny pulsing balls of heat. He located Ezra; it wasn't exactly difficult to distinguish his padawan's signature from others. He reached a little further...only to stumble back as a solid wall blocked him from continuing. He knocked on it gently. Ezra. Come on, let me in. There was no response save a flare of anger.

Kanan sighed as retreated back to his own body. Hera was right. Maybe what Ezra needed was more time. He would talk to Kanan when he was ready.

He hoped.