Chapter 2: The First Year of The War
Doryn knew that her Master could've still been there. If she had simply focused harder on deflecting the shots and had taken down the attackers instead of trying to learn their intentions. If she hadn't been injured. If she could've gone to Geonosis. She could've protected her Master. She would have given her life. She was only a Padawan that struggled to feel the compassion for all that she was meant to. She found the idea of her dying in that pit a better alternative to her Master dying. He was everything a Jedi ought to be and he was now, as every Jedi would eventually be, one with the Force. She knew that he was meant to die there. She knew that no matter what she did, the Force could rely on her failure to keep her Master alive. the Force, the infallible spirit of the galaxy, knew that there was something wrong with her. It made it even worse.
When she'd chosen a form, her Master had taken her to meet Master Dooku. She idolised both her Master and Dooku more than any other Jedi. Though Dooku wasn't even a Jedi at that point. She still idolised him, even when he seemingly dropped out of existence and she had to continue her Makashi training with Master Ti. Even if Dooku hadn't left the order, the day her Master died was the day Dooku was revealed to be a Sith. The two men she'd been the apprentice to were gone. All that was left was the empty pedestal that the dead man and Sith had once occupied.
"For you, this is." Master Yoda presented her with a lightsaber a week after her Master became one with the Force. So much had happened from the discovery of Dooku's true nature to the funerals of the fallen Jedi, that it was the earliest opportunity that there was for it. She quickly recognised it as the one she had seen every day for the past 6 years. When a Jedi died, their kyber crystal became part of a tower. She was sure that it was one of the traditions older than even Master Yoda. "Am I to take it to the tower?" She had not witnessed the tradition before and was unsure if the norm was for the Jedi's last Padawan to be the one to take it there. It seemed odd as she'd expected a proper ceremony for it like the funeral itself or even as simple as additions to a Padawan braid. "To keep it, you are. Believed your Master to wield two, you are destined." It was like the small yet ancient Master had punctured a giant weeping hole into her chest. As if she was made of flimsiplast and his little green fist had punched straight through her. She failed her Master and he still believed that she could be great. She wasn't angry like she had been before. It was different. The pain was sobering. She knew what she had to do.
Finding a Master to take over her training was unimportant to her during the first year of the war. With the fully trained knights becoming war generals, she took on some of the shared responsibility for training younglings. She trained alone with the simulation droids. Most Padawans were in the middle of the war with their Masters, so the Padawan training hall had never been so quiet. She sometimes considered modifying one of the lightsabers to make the crystal project a shield rather than a sword. As she perfected her technique, she realised she was right in trusting it would be more effective than a simple shield. She had learnt the rhythm of forms II and III in her 5 years she had been using them. It only took her a year to put both rhythms together. Form III, soresu, with her Master's saber and form II, Makashi, with her own. Though, she'd only thought to combine the two in what was technically a type of form VI after learning how to do both forms with two lightsabers. Form II always required her to adjust her Master's blade's length and form III always looked like a bastardisation of form VI.
A year into the war, Master Yoda found her a new Master. His last student had become a knight a little before the 212 Jedi went to Geonosis. Yoda believed that this Master and environment would be what Doryn needed to flourish into the great Jedi her previous Master had always seen inside of her. Nicanas had always sung the praises of his Padawan and died knowing she would shine.
