There was the Force.
There was peace.
The molecules of the light side were diffuse, flowing over, around and through everything.
A need reached out. She answered. The tug was gentle at first because it seemed far away, but then it became an undeniable pull on the connection that she had once shared with her other.
Who was calling her? She became more aware of herself as the other tried to grasp at their connection. His thoughts were concentrating her essence. Making her more herself and less the diffuse Force. She was Depa. In life, she had been Depa Billaba, a Jedi Knight. In death, she was that, but much more. Yes. As she thought hard, the molecules of the light that made up what she now was drew together, concentrating themselves. Coalescing. The other's thoughts were bringing her back together.
The other was her padawan.
Caleb.
Her young strategist. Brash and brave...the one who had a million questions and a brilliant mind to grasp the answers. Affection filled her. A million memories were at her fingertips. They overwhelmed her, and she experienced them in a rush.
Her padawan needed her. Caleb needed her. It took forever to reach him and it took the briefest moment. Now, she was near, seeing without eyes, feeling without touch. Sensing through the Force.
He was asleep. She examined him and saw her padawan had grown strong and tall over time. The molecules of her force flowed around and through him, investigating and absorbing his presence with joy. She felt so proud of him and her Force massed to became a blinding light. She reached out to him, to feel his living Force. Moving beyond the physical, she discovered with sorrow that his living Force was damaged. He was broken and out of balance. She wailed with the pain that he felt. It was overwhelming.
He was dreaming and suffering in his dreams. She reached for them, and felt the ugly miasma of the dark-side scrabbling for purchase inside of him. Oh the loss, the fear...the guilt...
I am here, padawan!
When she touched him, the dream shattered and he awoke. He had not sensed her; his Force ability was dulled or she was perhaps not strong enough. She wasn't sure. It was difficult not to diffuse back into the Force; it was pulling at her even now.
But Caleb needed her.
She could see the dark, beginning to coalesce around her padawan. Trying to claim what did not belong to it. There was coldness in his hand. She could see the outlines of a weapon as she brought the full strength of her attention to look at the physical world, instead of the non-corporeal one.
No!
Tears. His tears. He wanted to die. His very force, his life energy was directed towards dying and it broke her as he brought the blaster up under his chin.
My dear sweet youngling. No...no...no...
She concentrated her essence on him; she called out in anguish.
She could feel the Force within her, concentrating itself into a supernova and a memory of Caleb, as a younger padawan came within her reach. She could see herself and Caleb, in the Jedi Temple gardens, meditating. That beautiful blue day, she had opened her eyes, watching him as he tried to embrace the Force in his meditations. That day, she realized what being a Master meant. This youngling was dependent on her guidance to succeed, and it was such a great responsibility that she was humbled and bowed her head, grateful that the Force had given her this gift.
In the memory, the sun warmed the both of them and the scent of Chalactan roses was heavy in the air. She felt the love for her student as a poignant pain, and suddenly, the scent of memory was everywhere in the room as she reached out to Caleb, manifesting her love for him in the only way she was able.
Here. Rest easy, Padawan. I am here. She called him, surrounded him, and cradled him, wanting to feel only the light side of the Force within him again. The dark-side drew back at her sudden protection.
Caleb was stunned. The weapon fell from his fingers and he looked around, tears streaking his face. Now she could see him even better as he spoke into the Force.
Master?
Yes! She gathered her essence again and the scent of roses intensified ten-fold… a hundred-fold. He knew she was there! He would not fall. She would not allow it.
Her padawan dropped to his knees and curled into a ball, crying like a youngling after a bad dream.
She reached for him, allowing her Force to flow around, into and through him once more. It was so hard to make herself felt in the physical world—she had become something else—but she could feel the wounds of his heart and mind. She could not heal them herself, so she soothed them the best she could. Caleb. She said his name over and over again, like a mantra, cradling him in the Force and rebuilding a fragile sense of peace as she kept guard over his dreams.
A/N: If this gets a lot of positive vibes, I might edit and repost some of my older stuff. In addition, if you would like more of my writing, I write professionally under the name Ginger Smith. My original space opera, The Rush's Edge, was traditionally published in 2020 and is available wherever books are sold. (The conclusion, The Rush's Echo, is available just on Amazon.)