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Javos, the nineteen-year-old Jedi Knight, raised his arm swiftly. At first, nothing happened. The ground did not tremble; nor did the tome in front of him rise to meet his hand. But in a mere moment, his bleak, stagnant reality was obfuscated by the mesmerizing display of power playing out before Javos's eyes. The tome glided smoothly into Javos's hand, falling into place as if it were always meant to be there.
"Javos, may I speak to you a moment?" Master Kel-Rythe said.
Javos arose from his cross-legged position and properly greeted the revered Jedi Master.
"You may, sir." Javos responded.
Master Kel-Rythe's gaze shifted to Javos's feet.
"I'm afraid I must inform you of a tragic occurrence. Your former master, Master Vassa, fell in battle. She became one with the force while defending the planet of Cristophsis from the Gryff'gar pirate clan."
The preeminent master met Javos's pained gaze now.
"I know young Jedi, especially strong and willful ones, often struggle with attachments. If you need guidance during this time, please see me or Master Hallys."
Javos could feel the force abandoning him. It felt as if a myriad of trenchant pins digging into his body were all being violently ripped out at once, leaving him absolutely helpless to the ensuing anguish.
The Jedi Master brushed aside a strand of argentine hair on his forehead, then left as quietly as he had come.
Once the Jedi Master was out of sight, Javos fell helplessly to the ground. His arms were strings, barely mustering up the strength to keep him from collapsing. He was cognizant of the Jedi's aversion to attachments, but his old master was the one person he really cared about. As Jedi, one is forced to carefully traverse the path of apathy, yet care enough to maintain one's intrinsic magnanimousness. He knew the pain was ephemeral, that it would go away the instant he got up, yet he couldn't help but feel weak.
Once he gathered the strength to rise to his feet again, Javos stared blankly at the tome he had previously been assigned to read. 'Zhar Lestin's Treatise on Redemption', the torn, beige book cover read. Only Jedi Masters were allowed access to the holocrons, so Padawans and Knights were forced to read the tedious tome versions of all of the essential works.
Javos read for two hours. The tome was mostly comprised of anecdotal passages concerning Revan; a rogue Jedi Knight that subjugated the galaxy as a Sith, and saved it as a Jedi. It was one of the more palatable tomes assigned to Javos by the Jedi Council.
His next assignment was to view the prospective Padawans that were ready to begin their apprenticeship. Although he was only nineteen, he achieved knighthood early due to his exceptional aptitude for the force; qualifying him for the duty of training.
He walked rapidly out of his room, as he was quite exuberant at the thought of training a Padawan. A quick journey through the main corridor of the Jedi Temple saw him in the meditation chamber that contained his future apprentice.
The room was dimly lit, gray, and probably the most lackluster room one could lay eyes on. One levitating cogitation chair was the only thing that resembled furniture in the under-embellished room. The roof stood far higher than necessary, not an anomalous attribute for a room in the Jedi Temple. Master Seyaru, a notoriously affable Ithorian master, stood with the apprentices.
"Ah, you've arrived," Master Seyaru said, "these are the young ones you must select from."
Five future Jedi stood in an organized line in front of him. Among them was a Twi'lek female that looked slightly older than Javos, a Human male with a sizable gash on his right cheek, another Human male that looked far more ordinary than the scarred one, a Human female with her blonde hair spilling out behind her back like a waterfall, and a Togruta male with an anxious stance.
"Apprentices, why don't you introduce yourselves." Master Seyaru said in an Ithorian dialect which was understood by all through the force.
The Human male with a sizable gash spoke first.
"The name's Targ. I was born on Nar Shadaa, but Master Kyvar found me and brought me here."
The Twi'lek went next.
"I'm Ga'lessia Syndulla! I was only brought here recently, but I'm trying my best to catch up!"
The other Human male followed.
"My name is Boros. I'm from Naboo."
The Human female came next.
"I'm Rysa. I was born here, on Coruscant."
Finally, the Togrutan mustered up the courage to speak.
"I'm…I'm Fendrik. I was born on Shili. Master Radira brought me here."
Master Seyaru looked pleased.
"Thank you, all of you. Now, please demonstrate the skills you have learned in battle by dueling one another." he said.
Targ stepped into the center of the room.
"I was the best duelist in my sector when I was only thirteen." Targ gasconaded.
Master Seyaru's pleased expression faded.
"You would do well not to gloat, Targ." he said.
The other Human male stepped into the fore as well.
"I would like to face Targ." he said.
Master Seyaru hesitated, but then he backed away and let the fighters have free reign.
"Begin on my mark." he said.
"Three."
Targ wore a wry smile, the smile of a predator about to devour its prey.
"Two."
Boros stared blankly at Targ, showing no signs of fear or excitement.
"One."
They began.