It had been so long since he had one. Since he had that one. Why now? Tarys turned his head to check the clock on his wall. He'd woken up in the small hours of the morning. His body was sticky with sweat as he couldn't shake the feeling of fear from his mind. Tarys raised his hand to his face and saw it shaking. Why again? He thought he was over it. He thought he was past it. Tarys tried his best to ignore the pit in his stomach as the feeling of despair threatened to swallow him whole, getting up to have a welcome drink of water to combat the feeling of nausea that was about to overcome him.

He leaned on the wall for support as he tried to suppress the nightmare he had just relived. Two damn years ago. That's when it happened. And yet it was still with him. It had been almost a year since the last one. Tarys punched the wall with the side of his fist in frustration. There is no emotion, there is peace. He repeated the mantra over and over in his mind in the hopes that the Code would wash away his anger, his fear, his guilt. He'd failed. It was his fault.

By now, his breathing had deepened to the point of resembling normalcy but the underlying emotions hadn't left him - even if he thought they had. Did the Force punish him for taking a break? The idea was a ridiculous one, even Tarys knew that, but he searched for possible explanations as to why after so long he had to relive that. No. He suppressed the thought as he focused on his breathing. Jedi remained calm - even during the most difficult battles.

Tarys decided to meditate once more. If nothing else, it would give him some sense of serenity. It took a long time, almost an hour, but Tarys did feel at peace afterwards, relatively speaking. Then his holo rang on his desk. It was Master Orgus.

"I just received a distress call from the Twi'lek settlement, they spotted Bengel Morr!" He said as he panted. "I'm on my way, meet me there!"

Where had Master Orgus been? He was already supposed to be in the village.

Regardless, Tarys braided his hair as quickly as he could and practically threw on his tunic and ran out of the Temple as he fastened his belt. If the Kalikori had seen Morr, the situation was dire.

Tarys made it back to the village in a matter of minutes thanks to the Temple's speeder service, something he'd neglected to take advantage of before. Teleporting into the Matriarch's complex, Tarys was met by Ranna and Teeseven, but not Master Orgus - he should've already been here.

"Master Orgus responded to your distress call. I was meant to meet him here, what happened?" Tarys asked, darting his eyes around to look for any sign of the Jedi Master.

"I haven't seen or spoken to him. We didn't send any distress call," she said, her eyes refusing to meet his for some reason.

"T7 = scanning area / Stand by…" the droid helpfully added. "Confirmed / Master Orgus = not in settlement + not answering holocom"

"Someone had to have sent Master Orgus the distress call and they were in the village. Who could it have been?" Tarys asked Ranna.

"I'm sure it's a misunderstanding. He'll turn up," she replied, still refusing to look at him. "You should stay here a while, I feel safer knowing you're here."

Tarys felt a sharp stab in his lower back, followed by a bang and a crackling of electricity. Teeseven must've been shocked. Everything went fuzzy. He blinked a few times, trying to correct his vision to no avail. He had the greatest urge to close his eyes, to sleep. A tranq dart? That was his last thought until he came to, Ranna standing in front of him - she was confronting three other Twi'lek, Moorint among them.

"Stop it! What are you doing?" Ranna demanded. Even at her most assertive, she seemed only a child in the face of Moorint's authoritative aura.

"Matriarch, step aside. Handing over the Master wasn't enough. This Padawan has to die," the Scout Chief announced, no small amount of regret in his voice.

"I told you to leave him alone! That was the pact!"

"Bengel Morr refused your terms. This is to save our people! Out of all of us, you should see that!"

"Ranna? Don't tell me that…" Tarys began, hesitant to say the words.

"I was trying to save you. The Jedi are doomed - but you'd be safe if you stayed here," she finally looked him in the eyes and hers were pleading.

"No. Jedi are never doomed, not until we give up. You made a mistake," Tarys informed her as if it were a fact. No, not as if it were, it was. Jedi were never defeated - not until they gave in and Tarys wasn't in the habit of doing that.

Moorint looked at Tarys. "Bengel Morr came to me. Said he'd end the Flesh Raider attacks if we gave him your Master."

"He asked us to kill you too - but I said no. I told him we'd keep you here. You'd be safe and my people would have a protector. Moorint, please, you can't hurt him." Ranna's voice betrayed her panicking.

"If we don't do what we're told, Bengel Morr will kill us all," Moorint countered.

The Scout Chief wasn't a man to relent, Tarys had learned that much in the few days he'd worked with him and the look in his eyes… he was truly convinced killing Tarys was the only option, no words would change his mind when his heart was set on that course of action. Manipulating minds was never Tarys' preferred method of conflict resolution, but it seemed like in this case it was the only way that no one would get hurt.

"You don't want to hurt anyone. You want to leave peacefully," he told them, waving his hand in the air in front of them.

"I… I don't want to hurt anyone," the three said in unison. They dropped their blasters and walked out of the building as if nothing had happened.

"Thank you, I had a feeling Morr wasn't going to back down - if either of you got hurt or worse- This was a terrible mistake, I was going to save you - save us all," Ranna was visibly flustered.

"Ranna, do you understand what you did? You handed Master Orgus to the enemy! One who wants him head, and every Jedi with him. Please tell me you know where he could be - tell me it's not too late," Tarys himself felt anxiety taking over, if he was responsible for the death of a Council member, Master Orgus, no less, he could never forgive himself.

"Bengel Morr took him to some place called the Forge, that's all I know. I'm sorry Tarys," Ranna clearly regretted everything, from her actions to the whole situation.

Tarys exhaled deeply, "I don't condone what you did, you could have found a different way… but I understand why you did it."

"Tell me what I can do to make it right," she truly wanted a way to atone for her mistake.

"There's nothing to do but learn Ranna. Learn from this mistake and lead your people with the wisdom gained from it. You'll make a good matriarch - just don't rush to decisions," Tarys advised.

"Thank you. I'm so sorry this happened."

Tarys couldn't bring himself to reply. He was glad he forgave her, beyond the fact that it was mandated by the Jedi code, but she still gave away Master Orgus to Morr. She knew he wanted to kill him and still she gave him away. The Padawan balled his hands into fists and then slowly released them, alongside a long held breath. Let me not be too late, he pled to the Force. He reactivated Teeseven as quickly as he could. "Go back to the Temple, I'm going after Master Orgus."

"T7 = accompany Jedi / Save Master Orgus together" the droid suggested.

"Not today. I'm going to face Morr alone, do as I say Teeseven," Tarys commanded.

The droid let out a disheartened trill as he rolled out of the building. Tarys followed him soon afterwards and mounted his speederbike, he internally praised himself for having the sense to bring one - every second saved was another where Master Orgus lived.

Tarys allowed the hum of the speeder's engine to be the only sound he heard and the brushing of the wind against his face to be the only feeling he felt as he once again let the world around him blur into the background. Bengel Morr had tried to kill Jedi: Knights, Masters and even Padawans. He'd brought an army of violent natives under his control and supplied them with weapons. He'd sent his underlings to corrupt the only food supply of a struggling village in the hope to kill them. He'd manipulated a grieving and hurt Padawan into becoming his dark apprentice. He'd betrayed his Master and was about to kill him.

The crimes of Bengel Morr were many.

Then Tarys saw him. As he dismounted the vehicle, he saw the Nautolan at the foot of the ancient stairs that led to the Forge and Master Orgus Din - no, his body - lay on the ground.

"I sensed you coming," the Nautolan announced, in his wretched voice. "Your fear betrayed you. You're weak, like him. And you will fall, with him."

"Then you haven't killed him yet," Tarys hoped, yet even with this new hope anger seeped through his restraint.

"No. Not yet," Morr seemed to almost regret the fact, or so Tarys thought.

"You won't hurt another soul, Morr. It's over," Tarys declared. Bengel Morr had caused so much pain for so many people - this was the end of it.

"The will of the Force guided me here for justice, to restore what the Jedi lost. It's far from over. You were on Coruscant, you would have been only a child but you should still remember the greatest of the Order being slaughtered and cut down by the Sith. How can you stand back and watch as weak-willed, treacherous excuses for Masters like Orgus Din abandon the Jedi. Abandon their own!" Bengel Morr roared.

"None of us stand back and watch," Tarys fumed. "We just don't consider the murder of innocents 'justice'."

"You don't understand, Padawan. The weak will be sacrificed to make us stronger. The Jedi Order must be reborn from the ashes of its defeat," he finished, raising his lightsaber hilt in front of him and activating it - a luminous beam of bright blue light masking the darkness that had engulfed its owner.

Tarys had resigned himself to battle long before he reached the Forge - this was going to end one way: with Bengel Morr defeated.

Pull. Then each of his lightsabers quickly flew into the palms of his hands and within moments Tarys brandished his own blades. Tarys marched towards Bengel Morr, this was no time to wait, he had to be - no, deserved to be beaten and he would be the one to do it. He attacked Morr with all of his strength. The loud clashing of plasma overwhelmed any other sounds Tarys might have heard.

Shades of blue crashed against each other as sparks flew off into the air. The cold metal of his lightsabers had begun to warm from the sheer tightness of his grip. Even though Tarys had two weapons, Bengel Morr was able to effortlessly block and counter his every attack. Tarys tried to meet his enemy's saber on his quillon, trapping it but Morr was just too fast. The dark Jedi changed the direction of his swing just fast enough to avoid Tarys entirely, ducking beneath him.

A droplet of sweat hit Tarys' arm as he swung his body to find Morr.

Burning.

The acrid stench of burning cloth and flesh assaulted his nose as he staggered forward. Bengel Morr's visage was black with the sun trailing behind him, casting the shadow of a giant. His enemy's face revealed no emotion. The lightsaber had only grazed Tarys but even that was enough to make him clench his jaw in an effort not to scream. This isn't right. He was letting his emotions get the best of him.

The Padawan stood back up, swallowing the taste of blood and inhaling all the air on Tython. He let it all out. Bengel Morr had done unspeakable things but a Jedi didn't not allow emotions to blind them.

'We enter battles calmly' Master Satele had said.

Tarys teleported backwards onto one of the steps. He stumbled and fell on his back, it didn't matter - putting distance between him and Morr was the important thing. He extracted one of the stim packs from his belt and injected it into his side, as close to the wound as he could get without actually touching it. Within seconds he felt a new vigour as the all-consuming pain dulled to an uncomfortable itch, letting Tarys focus his mind on the enemy below him.

Jump.

The Force granted his request, propelling him high into the air. Tarys let himself fall, lightsabers in front of him, towards Bengel Morr. So far, Morr had been fighting with his mind, he did what a Jedi was supposed to and did not allow his emotions to control him - unlike Tarys.

As Tarys flew into his opponent, he surmised that Morr would step back and let him fall to the ground, leaving him open. He wouldn't allow him that chance. Tarys pushed all the momentum he could into the front of his body. He imagined his fleet planted on the dry ground and his eyes facing Morr's turquoise head-tentacles. He blinked.

Tarys propelled all the force he had gathered while falling forward, pushing his weapon into Bengel Morr's back, this time creating the sizzling of battle armour burning as his robe disappeared in front of it. He tackled the Nautolan into the ground, forcing him to let go of his saber by pressing his knee into his arm. Tarys pinned Morr's head between the long blade of his saber and its quillon, if he moved his head at all he would risk decapitation.

"Surrender, Morr, it is over," Tarys assured him.

He waited as the seconds passed and Bengel Morr seemed not to even acknowledge that he'd spoken.

"You've won - why has the Force guided me to this defeat?" He sounded as if he was betrayed.

Tarys let him go, quickly latching his sabers to his belt and Force pulling Morr's saber to his hand - ensuring he stayed unarmed.

"You're stronger than any Jedi I've known. You could redeem the Order and destroy the Sith. I see now. That's why the Force made us fight. The weapons I would find at the Forge wasn't one of my own making, it was you," Bengel Morr reflected, meeting Tarys' eyes.

There was no hate in Bengel Morr's eyes, just satisfaction. Tarys had thought that his intentions were good, even if his methods were deplorable but that was before he'd tried to kill Master Orgus. Was there a possibility of redemption for the fallen Jedi that stood before him?

More importantly, did he deserve it?

Tarys had defeated Bengel Morr before the toll of his actions were allowed to grow too great but he still claimed innocent lives of Jedi and Kalikori villagers, all in the name of 'restoring' the Jedi Order. The Padawan's hand rested on the button of Morr's saber, it would be easy - trivial even - to end Bengel Morr's life. Tarys had done it before, he'd killed murderers before, he'd killed Ortol. Bengel Morr had tried to kill Master Orgus, he wanted to kill every last Jedi on Tython. He had nearly done it, too.

What was he thinking? Tarys admonished himself, death when it wasn't necessary wasn't the Jedi way. Even more importantly, it wasn't him. He didn't kill Ortol, Astraia did - Tarys even protested the action for the Force's sake! No, Tarys found it impossible to agree with Bengel Morr, or even to understand him, but he didn't have to. All he had to do was give a Jedi who had lost their way another chance.

"Morr, you're wrong to think the Order is weak. Go back to the Temple, seek forgiveness for your actions. Become a Jedi again. You know you aren't what Master Orgus intended you to be," Tarys told him. "Do that, and I promise you I will do my best to bring peace to the galaxy."

"But not destroy the Sith."

"Destruction isn't a necessity for peace. You should know that," Tarys reminded him.

"Perhaps you're right… Maybe the Force guided me to you for a reason. I'll try. I'll follow your example," Bengel said.

Master Orgus Din finally regained consciousness and spoke after regaining his bearings. "Padawan… I must have you to thank for being alive." He turned to meet Bengel's eyes, "Bengel… I owe you an apology."

The Master showed a level of regret, of sheer emotion, that Tarys hadn't thought him capable of.

"Maybe you do, Master. But we can talk about it on the way back to the Temple." Bengel extended his hand to his former Master.

"Then… you're coming back?"

"I'll try to. Perhaps the Order still has a chance if this Padawan here is a product of it," Bengel told him, nodding in Tarys' direction.

Master Orgus approached Tarys, putting a hand on his shoulder. "Master Satele trained you well, Padawan. Bengel is right, you've helped avert the Temple's destruction. I can tell you don't realise it, but the entire Order is in your debt. Take your speeder back - I have a feeling your Master will want to speak to you. Bengel and I will take the scenic route."

No. The Order couldn't be in Tarys' debt. He nearly went against everything it stood for and killed an unarmed, helpless enemy. He had to be better.

Giving the Jedi Master a solemn nod of acknowledgement, Tarys mounted the speederbike and started riding back to the Temple. This time he could take his time. If Tarys could meditate on a speeder he would, there was nothing more calming than the feeling of movement - it was inexplicable but it was true without a doubt. Trying his best to split his attention between the path and his thoughts, Tarys reflected on what he'd done and more importantly, what he'd felt.

When he found out Ranna had given Master Orgus over he just felt so angry, betrayed, unsure. Anything but calm. What sort of Jedi was he if he couldn't even control his emotions? There is no emotion, there is peace. He'd said that mantra to himself so much that he thought it should've stuck by now but apparently not, his emotions were threatening to control him. Even when fighting Bengel Morr his emotions controlled him, clouding his judgment and earning him a new wound he should have otherwise been able to avoid. He wasn't good enough.

Tarys was sitting on his bed, it had been a long day. From his left he heard quiet hissing as he saw the door open to show Master Satele behind it. He scrambled to get up but was stopped by his Master's raised hand.

"Please, sit, there's no need for you to get up," she said, taking a seat herself at the edge of his bed.

"Has something happened?" Tarys asked.

"Does something need to happen for someone to visit their student?" Master Satele replied. "No, I came to tell you that Master Orgus contacted me a few minutes ago, praise for you was basically all that came out of his mouth."

"For me?" That couldn't have been right, the Master did say all that about the Order but he had to have been exaggerating.

"Yes. And I agree with him, your work with Master Orgus has been nothing short of exemplary," she smiled.

"No, Master… It wasn't," Tarys confessed.

"You have done great work for the Order and yet all I sense from you is regret. Why? What's wrong Tarys?" His Master exchanged her smile for a look of concern.

The Padawan breathed deeply before speaking, "I failed… At least as far as the Code is concerned. I didn't behave like a Jedi should have. The past few days, I've just been so angry. Mainly at Bengel Morr, but then Ranna betrayed us. I knew she meant well and was only looking out for her people but I still got so mad. I was furious with her. I tried my best to hide it from her but then I thought about what Bengel would do to Master Orgus and I just couldn't keep it in.

"Then when I was fighting him, I let my anger guide my actions. I wasn't calm like you would've wanted me to be, like you would've been. Then… I remembered what you told me, I tried to remind myself of all those lessons and I finally got under control until he was there right in front of me. Unarmed. Master, I almost killed him."

"But you didn't. You're allowed to have emotions, don't forget that," she began.

"But-"

"You just shouldn't let them control you. No matter what it seems like to you, ultimately, you were in control of your emotions. Being angry at the Matriarch was understandable, I would have been too. And yes, you did let your emotions overtake you momentarily but you brought them back under control, that's what matters. It takes a great Padawan to be able to admit when they may have failed in living up to all our Code expects. You not only recognised your mistake, but you corrected it, before anyone got hurt - that's the mark of a good Jedi.

"I'm proud of you Tarys. The Grand Master of the Jedi Order could not have asked for a better student," she told him with a foreboding sense of finality, laying a comforting hand on his forearm. "On the topic of the Matriarch of the Twi'lek village, she came to the Temple earlier and asked to be judged by us for giving Master Orgus over. What do you think should be done?"

Master Satele often asked for his opinion when it came to matters relating to leading the Jedi Order. At first he thought it was some sort of test but eventually he realised it was one of the many subtle ways Satele Shan made for a great teacher, one Tarys would be eternally grateful for.

"I think she should be forgiven. She made an error in judgment but she's young and new to leadership. I believe that if Ranna was given the chance, she could do a lot of good for the Kalikori. Besides, we were the ones who created the instability there by not being allowed to help them when they first settled so a friendly relationship between us can only be beneficial," Tarys explained after taking a few moments to think.

"That settles it then," Master Satele announced, standing up.

"Settles what?"

"That you represent the best hope for our future," she answered, beginning to walk out of his room. "Two days from now, you will be a Knight." And then she was gone.

He was being knighted? This couldn't have been real. It had to have been a dream. He would wake up any second, he just knew it.

Millions of thoughts raced through his mind. He hadn't even completed his Jedi Trials. There was so much he had left to do before he was supposed to become a Knight. Tarys shook his head, he knew what he had to do. He knew why Master Satele had given him two days. He had to spend the time in meditation. Even though his Master had dropped the news on him like a bomb, they both understood the gravity of what Tarys was about to undertake.

Wasting no time, Tarys made his way to the Tythonian Temple's version of the Tranquility Spire. It was a smaller, but no less effective copy of the one on Coruscant. Tarys would spend the next day and night here, until the time of the ceremony itself. The room itself was empty. Not a soul was in there and not a sound was made. The Padawan walked to the centre of the room and sat down cross-legged, ready to begin his meditation.

A day and a night.

Tarys closed his eyes and started paying attention to his breathing. It was normal at first, then it got slower and slower until not even he could notice it anymore. He immersed himself completely in the Force and let it envelop him like a shroud of mystery yet certainty. One of chaos yet harmony.

It had never been easy to slip into meditation, to forget all that was happening around him. The meditation was for a Padawan to reflect on the journey that had brought them to the gates of Knighthood and to understand the will of the Force for the future. What had he done?

He'd been raised with the Jedi; he'd been with them almost since birth, it seemed. Tarys cringed internally remembering some of the antics his younger self subjected his masters to but pushed those thoughts aside before he started wishing for the ground to swallow him whole. The first time he truly realised that he was going to be a Jedi was likely when he was almost eight years old - well after he'd started training. It was so surreal. Only then had it set in that he would one day join the ranks of the protectors of the galaxy.

Only then had he learned the legend of Satele Shan.

He remembered feeling - no, he still felt - strange about the fact that the person he saw as not much more than a caretaker was actually a war hero, a Master Jedi, a master warrior and somehow always remained the kind, compassionate and endlessly patient parental figure he'd come to… not love. No, as a Jedi, he couldn't allow himself attachments. He smiled, reminiscing about the memories of him regaling Master Satele with tales of five-year-old Tarys' bravery against the great beast of the Temple: Mr. Dummy.

And Master Satele listened to every word he said. He didn't understand how, even thinking about listening to himself when he was that young made him shrivel up internally. She didn't just listen, she even went along with it. She added little details to the stories he'd create, fleshing out his make-believe world in ways he thought unimaginable. Then, she told stories of her own. Those were often his rewards for behaving well, excelling in lessons and generally being a good little Initiate. If he was good he'd get stories from Master Satele. They were always a treat, she had a way of making it feel like you were there, right with her.

A terrible sadness filled Tarys when he realised he wouldn't get as many of those stories anymore. She wouldn't be his Master anymore, she'd just be a Master, someone everyone could look to equally. He knew it was awful to feel that way but he didn't want to give her up. She was just such an irreplaceable part of his life.

He remembered a time when he was much, much younger - perhaps six - when he wanted to give Master Satele a birthday present. The problem was, of course, that he had no idea when her birthday was so he just gave her a gift on his. It was a silly little thing, a hastily made bracelet that he made by tying threads of three different colours together. It was blue, green and white if he recalled correctly. Blue was his favourite colour and green was Master Satele's and white was the only other colour thread he could 'procure' from the Temple. He cringed when he remembered the stern talking to he received when Master Satele learned he'd stolen the materials to make the gift - although she did seem to like it at first.

His smile turned bittersweet as Tarys began to realise he would be losing much more than he would gain by becoming a Knight.

Twelve-year-old naive Tarys was obsessed with being Master Satele's Padawan, he had so much to prove, so much to show her. He wanted to be her Padawan for entirely the wrong reasons and he saw that now, all too late. Instead of trying to show off to someone who time and again reiterated she was proud of him, he should've been taking every possible opportunity to learn from her. If he had… If he had, then maybe he wouldn't have failed her.

Two years. It had already been two years since Tarys failed his Master. Even thinking about the memory made him sick to his stomach and replaced his bittersweet melancholy with pure, unadulterated fear. He was fortunate that all he was left with was fear, he could have not left at all. If it wasn't for Satele Shan he would have died there. He was so ungrateful for all those joint meditation sessions with her… Why didn't he see that they would save his life? That the Force bond that they would create would be the only reason he'd live long enough to become a Knight?

And yet here she was, rewarding her Padawan with Knighthood. Every fibre of his being told him she was wrong to do so, that he did nothing to deserve the rank but she told him that she could not have asked for a better student. Could that have been true? If it was one thing he'd learned throughout his life, Master Satele Shan was not a woman to throw compliments around without need so a small, emerging part of him wanted to believe her. The Force seemed to encourage it, pushing the thought to the forefront of his mind, not allowing him to think about anything else.

Master Satele considered him a success, despite his failure, despite the nightmares and despite the amount of work it took her and Jedi healers to get him back on his feet after… that.

No. He'd be lying to himself and more importantly be doing a disservice to his Master if he didn't allow himself to believe he truly cared about her. He'd admonish himself for his feelings later but right now, when the ritual demanded he be honest with himself, he needed to admit it. She was truly the best Master he could have asked for… and he was losing her.

Stop thinking like that you idiot. You're supposed to become a Knight.

Surely she'd still be with him? Not always, not like the past six years but at least when he needed her? Once again, he was doing her a disservice. Of course she would find time for him, she always had before and he had no reason to doubt that she would in the future. He trusted her.

Then, Cademimu.

He would never have left the planet alive if it wasn't for the help of a Sith Acolyte. Thinking of Astraia as one of them still felt wrong, he figured it always would, she just wasn't like them. She was better. For whatever reason, the Force had bonded them and now they were in each other's heads, possibly forever. Thinking about the conversations they'd had restored a smile to his sullen face, to say she was interesting would be an understatement. History was interesting. Science was interesting. Politics was interesting. She was fascinating.

The Padawan let his thoughts go astray, flowing on their own like the Force did through him. It had only been a week but part of him longed to see her and speak to her in person. That way, he'd get to see her face. It was still clear as day. The memory of her worried eyes as he woke up from the effects of Ortol's final assault floated in his mind's eye like she was right there.

"Dashing…" he chuckled to himself. She had a way of making him laugh. What would she think if she knew he was being knighted? Would she still mock him as a mere Padawan?

Before he could go down that avenue of thought any more, the Force guided his mind to Jodal and Ishra - the two people he was fortunate enough to call his closest friends.

If he was being Knighted then so was Ishra, if she hadn't been already. He was sure of it. She deserved it; from what he'd heard she was an exceptional Padawan. Her strength wasn't limited to the Force, it never had been. She had never stopped being competitive, although they didn't get to test who was better as often anymore. Jodal too, he became a Padawan soon after Tarys did and had excelled under his Master. It was strange seeing his goofy best friend mature into an able Jedi - not that he lost his humour by any means. Five minutes in a room with him and both of them would be clutching at their sides from laughter.

He was going to have that less going forward - a lot less. Knights had to take on missions on their own, striking out independently to preserve the Republic and help those in need. It was a noble calling and he was honoured that he was going to join the ranks for the thousands of Jedi who made the galaxy a better place every single day, but at what cost? He would no longer be able to see his friends whenever he wanted, maybe holocall them, but it just wasn't the same.

For the first time in his life, Tarys was going to be truly relying only on himself.

He was going to do it well. He had to. Too many people counted on him for him to fail again.

He knew it was time when he gradually began to see orange, the sun's light illuminating the darkness behind his closed eyes. Tarys stood up and stretched every inch of his body - for all the love Jedi gave meditation, they never seemed to talk about how stiff and uncomfortable it became after even a short while of sitting completely still.

He was going to see a room in the Temple he'd never been in before. The Hall of Knighthood was restricted to only Knights and Masters, and even then was only used for the ceremonies - going entirely untouched any other time. The ceremony always took place immediately after the meditation and so it was always the crack of dawn when a Padawan reached their new rank.

It wasn't often that Tarys got to see the sunrise and all that came with it. Seeing the pink sky made him feel hopeful, the sun's rise brought the start of a new day and like the start of anything, brought new opportunities and new chances to do good. He hoped he would be able to take advantage of those opportunities going forward. He had to live up to his new rank after all.

The door to the grandly named Hall of Knighthood was an inconspicuous one, and one of ancient design. Millennia-old inscriptions in the long-forgotten Je'daii tongue decorated the entrance. It sat at the very back of the Council chambers, which were now vacant, in a space no one ever goes - no one had a reason to. Standing in front of it, Tarys could feel the Force radiating from whatever was on the other side, it was calling to him. It was reaching out for something.

Tarys' first instinct was to lay his hand gently on the door which produced a soft hum as the carvings on the metal glowed a pale blue before opening to reveal almost complete darkness. He took cautious steps into the room, eventually losing any ability to see he might've had and being surrounded by complete darkness. He counted forty-six steps until he heard the sound of dozens of lightsabers igniting to illuminate the dark in shades of blue and green, revealing the presence of all of the High Council and even some other Masters he recognised from around the Temple.

Most importantly, however, he saw Grand Master Satele Shan standing in front of him, one of the blades of her saber shining bright blue. She nodded to him, signalling him to kneel in front of her. So he did. It didn't feel real. It all seemed like some sort of dream too fantastical to be true. It was cold and the hairs on the back of his neck stood upright, though he wasn't sure if that was the result of the temperature or the nervous mix of excitement and trepidation he felt.

His master hovered her blade over his right shoulder before she spoke in her formal and dignified tone, "By the right of the Council…"

She moved her saber to his left shoulder as he swallowed his nerves.

"By the will of the Force…"

She brought it back to his right.

"I dub you Knight of the Republic."

She severed his braid in a quick, deliberate motion.

"Rise, Jedi Knight Tarys Valerys."

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