The natural light that penetrated the shrine had faded until the only thing left illuminating the chamber was the glowing holocron and the projection hovering above it. The pilgrim showed no signs of fatigue, looking away only at odd intervals to withdraw a food capsule from the folds of their robe and take a nutrient pill. Occasionally the projection would display a diagram or schematic alongside its narration. It was usually just a ship, a weapon, or a planet relevant to the events the old man was relating. When these appeared the hooded figure would sometimes whisper indistinguishably, at which the old man's projection would pause, and nod, enlarging, rotating, or simply pausing on the image before continuing on.
As he finished, a miniature city scape materialized below his feet, the five towered temple he had spoken of right at the center, rising above the surrounding blocks and structures. The projection paused and looked down at it, drawing the pilgrim's attention there, too.
"From here," the old man said heavily, "things…change," The entire chamber shuddered as he spoke the word, prompting its visitor to jump up in surprise, but if the projection noticed, it gave no sign, and as he continued speaking, the room continued to tremble and groan, "My life is a testament to the arrogance of anyone, adept of the light or dark, who claims to know all the mysteries of the Force. You feel its power now, don't you? It acts beyond what we are capable of perceiving. You may have heard that it binds the galaxy, stitching reality , it can just as easily tear it apart."
The room suddenly lurched. By the time the hooded figure turned and saw the entrance rising out of sight, it was too late. The pilgrim moved hesitantly toward where the opening had once been, but the chamber continued sinking deeper underground. The room filled with cloying dust from grinding stone.
"Settle in," the old man said from behind, over the rumble, a hint of amusement in his voice, "One truth I can offer with certainty: The Force is a commitment…not for the feint of heart."
The pilgrim turned slowly to face the holocron's projection, which was wearing an expectant look on its face.
"Are you committed?" he asked. The chamber ground to a halt. As if he were actually present, the old man's robes billowed…and changed, subtly. Below him, the holocron changed as well; the pale blue light drained of color, and the heart of the holocron became obscured by fog-like wisps inside the crystal panes. Though the projection was now composed only of colorless shades, it was clear that its robes and garb were different than before.
After a long silence, the pilgrim nodded. The old man nodded in return and gestured toward the corner of the room, opposite where the doorway had been. The walls cracked apart, just as they had done when the chamber unsealed, but now they moved so slowly, it was barely perceptible.
"Very good. Let's continue."