Disclaimer: I own nothing.
Chapter 1
Rain pounded gently against the Jedi Temple, echoing in the mostly empty halls. Arren found it slightly amusing that, on the day of her departure, the weather controllers decided to surprise the Republic's capital. It was almost as if the news of her and the boy leaving the planet already reached the people outside the Temple, and they decided to orchestrate a goodbye show for them. Rain was a rare occurrence on Coruscant, and it always managed to catch many people off-guard, even though it was announced a few days prior.
Despite Arren's best efforts, she didn't fall asleep that night. Even though she's been reciting the Code in her mind countless times, various emotions still absorbed her thoughts. In the middle of the night, she found herself questioning the Order's teaching about attachments. Now that the time came for her to leave the Archives – much earlier than she expected – she realized that those attachments didn't only concern other people. For her, it was a home within a home. Over the past decades, the Archives became her small kingdom. Knowledge gathered across the millennia by countless Jedi Masters was her secret hideout from the outer world. Amongst the Library's bookshelves, she felt safe – protected. After years spent in the not-so-small room, Arren memorized every path, every single corner, and every single nook.
And now, the time came for Atris to follow in her footsteps.
She sighed heavily, muttering the first line of the Code. Only when she stopped in front of the Archives' entrance did she realize where her feet took her. The thick, wide door stared back at her, for the first time in decades denying her entrance. As long as Atris remained away, the Archives would be closed. Arren sighed heavily again, tracing her hand along the smooth, white panel.
"It's not easy to say goodbye, is it?" Atris' voice brought Arren out of her musings. She raised one of her eyebrows, silently wondering for a split second how didn't she sense the younger woman's presence. Taking a deep breath, Arren turned her head to look at her student. Former student, she corrected herself.
"You have no idea," she confirmed. "Though I guess you'll learn it yourself when the time comes for you to hand over the keys."
"Master Kae, if I may ask, what is so urgent that you had to step down?"
Arren closed her eyes. The previous day's discussion in the Council Chamber was meant to remain there, and be known only to those who participated in it. However, she was well aware that news would quickly spread across the Order that she had taken a Padawan. And even if, somehow, only the Jedi on Dantooine would know about this, there would come a time for her to return to Coruscant with the boy for him to be knighted. That is if he would prove himself worthy. Arren didn't doubt he would.
"The Council has decreed that I am to take a Padawan," she informed her.
"That boy you've been teaching for the past two years?" Atris asked, leaning against the wall. Arren scoffed slightly. Her student might have done her best to conceal her emotions, but they still colored her words.
"Control your emotions, Atris," she scolded the younger woman. "The boy was never meant to steal the Archivist's position from you."
A blush spread quickly across Atris' cheeks, traveling down to her neck and disappearing beneath her robe. "I'm sorry, Master Kae," she mumbled. "I just thought… I mean, he's much younger than me, and it wasn't certain when you would… step down. I was simply worried that all my training would be for nothing," she explained.
"As I've said, the boy was never meant, and never will be, to become the Archivist," Arren said. "But yes – he's the one I'm taking as a Padawan. And the Council decided it will be best to train him away from Coruscant – on Dantooine," she added, anticipating the woman's next question.
"Why?"
"That is something for the Council and me to know. Not you, Atris."
"Forgive me, Master Kae," she apologized, bowing lowly. Arren's lips curled up in a barely noticeable smile. The change in her tone was as clear as a day. Becoming the Archivist meant that Atris would be knighted soon, even though she was barely twenty. It also meant that becoming a Master was practically guaranteed for her. Not to mention a seat on the High Council. After all, such was the case with Arren. The only reason she didn't have her own place in the Chamber was her refusal of the offer. She couldn't envision herself sitting in the Council's Chamber, practically abandoning her beloved Archives.
"Do you wish to take one last look around, Master Kae?" Atris asked, gesturing at the closed door with her head. From the corner of her eye, Arren noticed that she was already holding the bunch of cards. The same she had watched over for decades.
"No," her mouth said against the wishes of her heart. "It would only make it much more difficult to leave this place," she added, still examining the closed door. In her mind, she could clearly see what lay on the other side. Rows upon rows of shelves, shining with a bright blue hue. Holocrons stood in various spots, seemingly in chaotic disarray, although they were aligned perfectly for Arren to navigate her way through the ancient Masters' teachings. And the Vaults at the very back of the Library. Even though she knew it to only be a projection of her mind, Arren could hear the loud hisses from the Archives' restricted section. "You're nervous," she more stated than asked.
"Yes, Master Kae," Atris admitted; her voice trembled slightly. A shy chuckle escaped her lips. "I didn't think it would happen so fast," she said, wrapping her cloak tightly around herself. "I mean, there's still so much I need to learn. I… I'm afraid I won't prove myself worthy of this responsibility."
"First thing you need to learn, Atris, is that one learns all their life," Arren replied. "So even when you'll be as old as the Grand Master, you'll still have much to learn. And believe me, if I thought for a split second that you're not ready yet, I would have said it to the Council. You may be young, Atris, but I wasn't much older than you when the Archives were passed down to me. My mentor died far too early – passed away in his sleep."
"When do you think I should take on a student?"
"Discuss it with the Council," Arren advised after a moment of hesitation. "They will decide when the time is right. For now, there is no need for you to worry about it. The Archives are in good hands," she added with a small smile which Atris gladly returned. "A word of caution, though: don't lose yourself in there. I hope I don't have to tell you what… things are stored in the Vaults. Please, be careful, Atris. Never, under any circumstances, remain next to the Vaults on your own longer than necessary. For now, let the Masters accompany you."
"Of course, Master Kae."
"I will most likely visit Coruscant at some point in the future," Arren continued, taking one last look at the closed door. "Make sure to keep the Archives in perfect condition. I will be most displeased if I find out you've been neglecting your duties."
"I won't disappoint you, Master Kae," Atris promised, bowing again.
"Good. May the Force be with you," Arren said, turning around on her heel. Each step she took caused an icy grip on her heart to tighten.
Just as was the case every day for the past two years, the boy that became her responsibility was waiting outside his quarters, ready for her to pick him up. Arren smiled at the sight. The dark-haired boy was bouncing on his feet; a small bag with his things was thrown over his shoulder.
"Are you ready, young one?" she asked upon reaching him.
"Yes, Master Kae," the boy replied eagerly, nodding his head. "Where are we going?"
"You will see. Come now. A long journey awaits us."
With the sun barely rising above the horizon, most of the Jedi were still in their beds. Masters rested for as long as they could before they would have to take care of their often annoying students while the Padawans regenerated after yet another day of exhausting training, only for it to happen again. Only the Temple Guards roamed the halls, ensuring the Temple was safe.
It was a sad thing, really. Time wasn't particularly kind for the Temple Guards. When they first appeared in the Jedi Order - millennia earlier - the position amidst their ranks was one of the highest honors that could be bestowed upon a Jedi, second only to a seat on the Council. In times past, it was even required to have the title of a Master before one could be even considered to join the Temple Guards.
However, that changed over time. Slowly but surely, the position degraded until it was considered to be a form of punishment. Padawans who failed in their training and were unable to complete their Jedi Trials were often sent off to join the Temple Guards. Or were shipped off to Telos. Of course, some students still believed in their ancient grandeur and willingly chose to be a part of that organization. However, such cases were a rarity. Arren never held those students in high regard. Being blinded by the past was never a good sign.
She hoped her future Padawan wouldn't find himself joining the Temple Guards. Going through her discussion with the Council the day before, Arren was more than certain that it would be his fate had she not intervened.
Rain was still falling when the two stepped on the landing pad. Following Arren's example, the young boy pulled the hood of his tiny cloak over his head. Just like Master Kardal promised last evening, a freighter was waiting for them. Two pilots were moving around it rapidly, loading crates and other cargo that would accompany them to Dantooine.
"I saw that ship in my dream," the boy muttered; his steps faltered for a split second before he ran up to catch up with the older woman. Deciding it was neither the time nor the place to have this conversation, Arren didn't reply.
She wasn't particularly surprised to find Jifo Kardal waiting for them right next to the ship. He could be old, but he was also extremely thorough when it came to his responsibilities. Rain gathered on his cloak, quickly traveling down to the ground.
"Master Kardal," Arren acknowledged him, making a small curtsey. The boy next to her bowed as well, muttering some form of greeting.
"Hello, Master Kae," Jifo replied, smiling at her. "And to you, young one. The ship will be ready in a few minutes. The pilots are taking care of some last-minute preparations, but they assured me it would only take a few minutes. Master Lestin is also aware of your arrival."
"Thank you, Master Kardal. Enter the ship," she ordered, turning her head to look at the boy. "Wait for me there. I'll join you soon, but I need to have a word with the Grand Master first."
"Of course, Master Kae," the boy replied, correcting his bag. "Master Kardal," he bowed again.
"You stand by your decision, Master Kae?" Jifo asked once the boy disappeared in the freighter. "It is not too late to cancel it."
"I do, Master Kardal," Arren replied, wrapping her cloak more tightly around herself. The rain quickly managed to make her shiver. "The boy's potential is enormous. Not training him would be a terrible waste. And if the Force keeps flowing through his dreams, keeping him in the Temple could result in… tragedies."
"He will need a name," Jifo stated, shifting his weight from his leg to the walking cane. "Master Dorak can't write down your Padawan as 'The Boy.'"
"Mandalorians don't name their children," Arren countered. "The children name themselves once they turn eight. Until then, they carry their Clan's name."
"I know that," Jifo replied, nodding his head. "Seek out his Clan, tell him about it, and let the boy carry his ancestors' name. Once he turns eight, make sure he follows his parents' tradition."
Arren's eyebrows drifted high onto her forehead. "I wasn't planning on telling him either of this so soon," she admitted. "Don't you think it's a little premature?"
"Your words from yesterday kept me up tonight for quite a while," Jifo said with a tired sigh. Upon closer inspection, Arren could clearly see dark circles under his eyes. "We've destroyed a family, Master Kae," he muttered. "The least we can do to somehow fix the damage we have caused is if we allow the boy's parents' will to prevail. At least what little can be salvaged of it."
"I promise it will be our first course of action once we reach Dantooine, Master Kardal."
"Train the boy, Arren," Jifo said, grabbing her arm. She was equally surprised by his sudden use of her name and the strength of his grip. "Help him grow into a good man and, hopefully, a good Jedi. If you encounter any issues, please, don't hesitate to contact the Council. We will help you as much as we can."
"I will do as you ask, Master Kardal," Arren promised, bowing lowly. "I think we should leave now," she said. The platform around them was already empty, and the pilots were nowhere to be seen; the ship's engines roared to life.
"May the Force be with you."
"And with you. Goodbye, Master Kardal."
Correcting her hood, Arren released herself from the old man's grip and walked towards the loading ramp. Water splashed beneath her boots with each step she took.
The freighter's interior was kept to a bare minimum – the result of the Order's view on comfort. A couple of beds intended for a larger crew on longer flights, a small table, a few chairs, and a holoprojector. The boy was sitting in one of the seats, looking around in awe. Arren couldn't blame him, though. After all, this was the first time he left the Temple in the past two years.
"I would ask you to sit down and buckle up, Master Jedi," the pilot said, turning around in his chair. "The ship is ready to take off, and might shake a little until we leave the atmosphere."
Arren fastened the seatbelts on the boy's chair before sitting down next to him and doing the same. Excitement shone in her student's eyes as the engines roared louder and louder. The control panel in front of them burst to life; countless diodes shone with various colors, illuminating the dimly lit ship. Green, red, blue, yellow, and white dots danced on the boy's face, causing him to squint his eyes from time to time.
"Engines ready," the same pilot announced, flipping a few switches. "Closing the loading ramp." His words were confirmed by a loud hissing coming from behind their backs.
"Stabilizers ready," the second pilot said, pressing a few buttons on the control panel. "Engaging the thrust engines and activating life-support systems."
The ship rocketed a little as it left the landing pad. The chairs they were sitting in shook violently, and Arren gripped the cushions to steady herself. The Mandalorian boy next to her did the same, though there was no fear in his eyes – only excitement.
Through the viewport, Arren could see Coruscant's skyscrapers becoming more and more distant as the freighter rose higher into the air. They quickly passed the Senate's building and the countless lines of speeders and transporters, hurrying in every direction.
"Leaving the atmosphere," the first pilot announced. "Hold tight."
The ship started shaking even more rapidly than during take-off. Arren closed her eyes and started reciting the Jedi Code. Space travels never belonged to her favorite activities. Her place was on the ground, in the Temple – in the Archives.
Soon enough, their freighter ceased rocketing, and their flight stabilized. Arren opened her eyes only to squint immediately. The nearby star was shining brightly through the viewport.
"Ever saw entering the Hyperspace, boy?" one of the pilots asked, turning around. It took a nudge from Arren before her student shook his head in denial. "Then come here. The first time is always the most exciting. Although it never gets boring," he added with a wink.
Arren nodded his head when the boy's eyes asked her silently for permission. With haste common for those his age, her future Padawan unbuckled the seatbelts and hurried to the cockpit, sitting in the pilot's lap.
"Coordinates punched in, calculating the Hyperspace route," the second pilot said. From her seat, Arren could see the control panel shining brightly, displaying the calculation's percentage.
"Hold tight, boy," the pilot warned, grabbing the lever. "Entering the Hyperspace in three… two… one…"
His countdown was perfectly synchronized with the fluent pull of the lever he was holding. For a split second, nothing happened, until the white dots around them became blurred. They stretched into long lines as if an invisible force pulled on the fabric of the Universe. Then, the darkness around them disappeared, replaced instantly with blue. The space around them shifted, no longer looking like what they had seen after leaving Coruscant. Stars and planets passed by them in a blink of an eye, serving as a background in the blue tunnel of the Hyperspace route.
"What do you think, lad?" the pilot asked.
"Amazing," the boy managed to breathe out, earning himself a few chuckles from the ship's crew members. Arren unfastened her seatbelts and stood up from the chair.
"You will see your fair share of Hyperspace in your life, young one," she said, quickly gathering the boy's attention. It both surprised and pleased her how easy it was for him to refocus on her whenever she spoke to him. It certainly eased her worries about whether she made a good choice by leaving the Archives. A student eager to learn was difficult to find. "Come. I need to speak to you."
With one last longing look outside the viewport, the boy jumped out of the pilot's lap and followed Arren deeper into the freighter. Finding an empty compartment, Arren walked inside, sliding the door shut once the boy entered.
"Do you know why we left Coruscant?" she asked. The boy only shook his head. "Yesterday, the Council decreed it's time for you to begin your Jedi training, and they assigned me to be your Master," she announced. The boy's eyes lit up instantly upon hearing her words. "And they decided that the Enclave on Dantooine will be the best place for you to train."
"Is it because of that dream I had?" he asked with a frown, not for the first time catching Arren off-guard with how fast his mind worked. It also scared her a bit, if she had to admit it. It could only mean that certain questions would be asked in the future, possibly too quickly to her liking.
"Partially," Arren replied. If the boy was to become her student, their relationship could only be built on mutual trust. The boy needed to trust her in order to absorb her knowledge, and she needed to trust him to pass her wisdom to him. Lying to the boy at the very beginning wouldn't be a very good start, but telling him the entire truth could be disastrous as well. No, the truth needed to be laid down gradually. The boy was still very young – with enough effort put into his mental growth, Arren was certain he wouldn't hold a grudge against the Order and the Council. Besides, his loyalties were already leaning towards the Jedi.
"Dantooine will be our home for the next few years," she continued, crossing her arms on her chest. "It is a peaceful world - lush and beautiful – unlike anything you've ever seen on Coruscant. If you even saw much of what lies beyond the Temple," Arren added as an afterthought. "I want you to know right from the beginning that I will not tolerate any slacking or disobedience on your part. Becoming a Jedi is a long and difficult path. Our studies from the past two years are nothing compared to what lies ahead of you, young one. I hope you understand that and will do your absolute best and even more?" Her lips curled up in a smile when the boy nodded his head. "Good. Do you have any questions?"
"When do we begin?"
Arren's smile widened. She was well aware that the boy had at least a little understanding of what the Padawan training looked like – he saw his peers in the Temple. He saw their exhaustion, frustration, and their Masters' disappointment. She wasn't sure if she was surprised by his eagerness, but she was most certainly pleased. Of all the Padawans she could have received, Arren had no doubts that one would be an excellent student.
"As soon as we land. Your training begins today, so I suggest you get as much rest now as possible. The flight to Dantooine is long, and I doubt our first lesson will be any different."
"What is so urgent it can't wait until the morning, Fett?" Garr asked, closing the door to his bedroom. The digital clock hanging on the wall read two in the morning, making the man groan heavily. Half an hour earlier, he received a call from Cassus. The man said he wanted to meet with him immediately, forcing Garr to leave the comfort of his bed. He shivered slightly, feeling the night's cold seeping through his thin clothes.
"Business, Raven," Cassus smiled, offering his hand; Garr shook it, and the two men gripped each other's shoulders, completing the formal greeting. "Let's go to your kitchen. You might want to sit down."
Even though it was his home, Garr followed Cassus to the other room. His guest didn't bother himself with politeness, slopping down on the chair reserved for the head of the house. Deciding it was far too early, or too late, to argue, Garr sat down on the opposite side.
"What business brings you here at two in the morning?" he asked, drumming his fingers against the table.
"How is your son? Amiel, is that right?" Cassus replied with a question of his own. His hands were hidden beneath the table, holding a medium-sized case Garr had seen when the man entered his house. He had no doubt that whatever 'business' Cassus wanted to discuss with him had something to do with that case.
"Asleep. And I would gladly be there too. So out with it, Fett. What business brings you here?"
"And how are you holding up?" Cassus once again avoided answering his question. Garr gritted his teeth slightly. "It must have been hard for you what happened two years ago. Especially now that you and your son remain the last two members of your Clan."
Garr's eyes narrowed, and his lips morphed into a thin line as he stared at the man in front of him. He clenched his fists so tightly that his knuckles turned white. As if someone flipped a switch in his brain, his mind reminded him of the massacre he saw upon arriving at his brother's home. Arused's head lay a few meters away from his body, and Danre's whole torso was covered with slashes long and wide enough to kill a grown man. But her death came only when her heart was pierced. He scanned the entire building thrice that day, but his nephew was nowhere to be found.
"It's none of your business, Fett," he growled.
"I bet you want to avenge their deaths," Cassus continued, fully ignoring the warning tone in the other man's voice. "I know I would want. But Jetti can be elusive if they want. They come out of nowhere, wreak havoc, and run back to Coruscant like cowards."
"I saw their freighter flying away," Garr hissed through clenched teeth. "I even felt the heat of their engines on my face. I saw the ship leaving the atmosphere and disappearing in Hyperspace," he said; his entire body started trembling as he recalled those events. Had he arrived a few minutes earlier, his family might have been whole and alive.
"But you couldn't do anything about it," Cassus nodded his head, staring at some random point on the table. "I'm not surprised," he shrugged his shoulders. "I mean, we were disarmed after the last war. Most of our equipment is gone, and our ships have been dismantled. Is it true that Arused managed to keep his armor?"
"He died in it," Garr replied. "His breastplate was shattered, but I salvaged his helmet," he said, pointing at something with his head. Cassus turned around, following the host's gaze with his own eyes until he spotted the blue helmet standing behind the glassed door of a cupboard.
"And from what I've heard, your brother and sister-in-law were able to send most of those bastards to hell," Cassus commented; his eyes traced the lines of the helmet he hadn't seen in quite a while. Dents and scratches covered it, but he was certain it still could prove itself in the battle if need be. "Wouldn't you like to do the same?" Fett asked, turning his head to look at the other man.
"How?" Garr scoffed. "Unless they come here again, there's nothing I can do."
A cruel smile appeared on Cassus' lips. "You can go after them."
Garr chuckled humorlessly, shaking his head. "You've just said we don't have our ships. Did you find a way to turn a speeder into a spaceship? Because I don't have any other vehicle. Not to mention I would need proper equipment if I managed to reach Coruscant. Do you have that for me as well?"
Cassus' smile widened. As if he anticipated that exact question, he lifted the case he'd been holding, placing it on the table with a loud thud. Opening the lock, he revealed its content to the other Mandalorian. Garr's eyes widened in disbelief as Beskar ingots spilled out of the case, covering his table. He pulled his hands away as if he was afraid of touching them. The silver metal reflected the light from above, illuminating his entire kitchen.
"What?" he whispered, barely able to utter a single sound. His eyes were still focused on the ingots in front of him; from his calculations, there had to be at least twenty of them.
"You can make your own armor," Cassus said, grinning from ear to ear. He leaned forward in his chair. "And ships can be built. I've said business brought me here – this is it, Garr. I saw over a hundred crates, each filled to the brim with similar cases, and this was only from one ship. And I've heard there is more coming – much more."
"From whom?"
"I don't know," Cassus shrugged his shoulders. "But let's just say there are people in this Galaxy who aren't particularly fond of the Republic nor Jetti. The Mandalore made contact with-"
"The Mandalore is dead," Garr interrupted him, for the first time managing to look away from Beskar.
"His Mask had been found and reclaimed," Cassus informed him, still grinning. "We have a new Mandalore now, Garr. And he's the one who sent me to you and other Clan Leaders as well. That's what I've been doing for the past few hours, and that's what I'll be doing for as long as I need. Do you want to avenge your family's death? Go to the capital and swear your loyalty to the new Mandalore. Then, you can have your revenge. Clan Raven always served our leaders as their personal guards," he reminded him. "And the Mandalore would like you to continue that tradition."
"We just lost a war against the Republic and the Jetti," Garr countered, shaking his head.
"And that should stop us from taking revenge?" Cassus asked; his eyebrows drifted high onto his forehead. "Look, Garr, time is of the essence here, and I still have many Clan Leaders to visit tonight. There are two possible outcomes to our conversation. First one – when I walk out from your home, you stay here, brooding over the past and what could have happened had you arrived at your brother's house those few minutes earlier. Or, you walk out with me, take your speeder, go to the capital and swear allegiance to the new Mandalore. Because I can swear to you that you're not the only one hungry for vengeance. Sooner or later, both the Republic and the Jetti will pay for what they did to us."
Garr remained silent, looking between Cassus and the stack of Beskar ingots. The amount of metal lying on his table was enough to craft a full armor – something he'd dreamt of ever since his equipment was taken away from him.
"I'll be on my way now," Cassus announced, standing up from his chair. "You can keep the Beskar. But if you decide to craft your armor, make sure to use it properly. Otherwise, you'll only shame your Clan's name," he said, leaving the kitchen. The hissing sound of the front door closing behind Cassus managed to break Garr out of his trance. He pushed his chair away from the table and sprinted after the other Mandalorian.
"Cassus!" he yelled as he noticed the other man mounting his speeder. His guest stopped, grinning widely. With a corner of his eye, Garr saw a few dozen similar cases packed on the man's vehicle and even more empty spots. "Where is the Mandalore?"
"It's a great pleasure to see you, Master Kae," Zhar Lestin greeted them once she and the boy left the freighter. Master Dorak was with him, standing a few steps behind the Twi'lek male. "Ah, and I assume this is your Padawan?" he asked, glancing at the boy next to her.
"Not yet, but soon enough," Arren replied. "And the pleasure is all mine, Master Lestin."
"I hope your journey was a safe one?" Dorak asked, taking a step forward. Arren nodded her head, greeting the other Archivist. "Would you like me to take you to your quarters?"
"Not yet, Master Dorak," Arren shook her head. "There is a matter of great importance waiting for us in the Archives," she said, looking at her future Padawan. "I would appreciate it if you were so kind as to take us there."
"Of course, Master Kae," Dorak said, turning around. "Please, follow me." Bringing the boy out of his marveling at everything around them, Arren followed her fellow Archivist.
The Enclave on Dantooine wasn't nearly as crowded as the Jedi Temple. If Arren had to guess, she would say that all the Jedi gathered there could fit on just one level back on Coruscant and still leave room for more. A smaller crowd also meant that the Enclave was much more peaceful; the usual rush and noise of the Temple were gone, replaced with muttered conversations, echoes of clashing vibroswords or lightsabers, and the sounds of the animals from the outside. All in all, the atmosphere was similar to that on Coruscant, though significantly less overwhelming.
Since there was no closed hangar, the evening sky was visible above their heads. No extraordinary sight for Arren, but it seemed that the boy next to her was mesmerized by everything above him. She shouldn't have been surprised – after all, her future Padawan had never as much as looked outside the Temple until that day. But at that moment, everything was new to him – the setting sun, the clouds traveling lazily in the sky, and the giant rays which occasionally flew above the Enclave. Even the grass covering the landing pad was new to him.
The boy glanced longingly at the outside world one last time as they walked through the Enclave's doors, but he did his best to keep up with his teacher. The corridors were narrow – much smaller than the enormous halls in the Jedi Temple – but still left enough room for a few people to walk side by side. The boy's eyes lingered for a few seconds on a tree that grew in the middle of crossroads; the roof in that area was gone, allowing both the sun and rain to reach the plant. Its branches were long and thick, covered with yellowish leaves, indicating they would fall off quite soon.
Master Dorak led them through a labyrinth of corridors until they reached the stairs leading to the underground levels of the Enclave. The air became much colder, though not to the point of causing discomfort. Several Jedi passed them by, bowing in respect to both Masters. The boy beside Arren looked back each time he saw a new person, even though he had seen practically every race from the Known Galaxy back in the Temple.
"Here we are, Master Kae," Dorak announced, stopping in front of the door. "The Library is closed for the day, so I can assure you that you won't be disturbed," he said, opening the door with his card. Arren flinched unwillingly at the familiar yet unfamiliar sound that greeted her ears. "I'm also certain you'll be able to navigate your way through the Archives without my assistance. If you need anything, I'll be in the Masters' dormitory," he announced, removing one card from the bunch he was holding. "Take as much time as you need. Just make sure to lock the door once you're done, and bring the key back to me. Then, you will be taken to your quarters."
"Of course, Master Dorak," she replied, bowing her head in agreement. Saying goodbye both to Master Kae and her future student, the dark-skinned Jedi left the Library, leaving the two alone. Arren turned around, looking at the Library's interior for the first time.
While the Archives on Coruscant were mostly white, illuminated by the bluish hue, the Library on Dantooine was built in a much more cozy way. Just as in the rest of the Enclave, light-brown wood covered the walls, and rough marble tiles were placed on the floor. While her feet could easily glide on the floor back home, it would be impossible to do it in that place. There was no bluish hue of the Holocrons nor datapads; instead, the chandelier above them illuminated the room with a gentle yellowish light. Arren couldn't feel more uncomfortable, but she didn't come there for her own benefit but for the boy's.
"What will we be learning today, Master Kae?" he asked, bringing Arren out of her musings. He was bouncing excitedly on the balls of his feet, looking from one bookshelf to another.
"Your today's lesson isn't specifically connected to your Jedi training," she replied after a few seconds. The light in the boy's eyes diminished instantly. "At least, theoretically," Arren added. "Remember what I told you yesterday? How the Force is like a living being?" The boy nodded his head; his eyes were fixed on the older woman, even though she saw his desire to dive into the knowledge gathered in the Library. "One has to accept and understand that fact before they can start working on their connection to the Force. And since there is no physical form you can interact with, you must gain that knowledge from other sources – those who surround you every day. Every single person in this Galaxy is tied to the Force – some more, some less. But you should be focused primarily on the one person that is with you all the time, never leaving you alone. Getting to know that person thoroughly will make it much easier for you to find your connection to the Force. Do you know who that person is, young one?"
"You, Master Kae?" the boy asked hesitantly after a few seconds of silently pondering her question. Arren shook her head.
"I'm not there with you when you sleep or when you need some private time," she replied and started walking between the bookshelves. The Library was organized similarly to the Archives on Coruscant, making it much easier for the Jedi Master to navigate her way through various datapads; the boy followed her every step. "But you're close. That person is here with us right now."
"Me?" the boy asked; once again, his tone was hesitant, and his voice was a mere whisper as if he was afraid of giving the wrong answer. Surprising him, Arren nodded her head.
"You are the one who is there with you all the time – when you sleep, eat, drink, study," she said, finally stopping in front of one bookshelf. "One has to know themselves before they can even hope to know the Force."
"I know myself," the boy countered, staring at the shelf Arren was tracing her finger upon.
"Really?" she asked, raising her eyebrow as she turned to gaze at her companion. "What can you tell me about yourself?"
"That I am a human," he replied instantly, clasping his hands together behind his back. "I'm a boy, I'm five years old, I have black hair and green eyes, and I have a black tattoo on my left shoulder."
"And what is your name, young one?" Arren countered. "Who are your parents? Where were you born? Your physical form doesn't define who you are in the center. And the center is where your connection to the Force lies."
The boy's shoulder sagged as he listened to the older woman. His excitement disappeared instantly, and he looked down at the floor. "On Coruscant, other kids laughed at me sometimes," he muttered. "They said that if I don't have a name, I can never become a true Jedi. They said I would join the Temple Guards or would be taken to Telos."
"They were both right and wrong," Arren sighed, pulling one datapad from the shelf. "Your name still isn't what fully defines you, but since the Order keeps track of its members, every Jedi needs to be recognizable. 'The Boy' or 'The Young One' won't suffice. That's why we are here right now – so you can find out more about yourself and your past," she said, quickly scanning the datapad's content. For a split second, Arren wondered if the Mandalorians knew that the Jedi Order had so much knowledge about their culture and traditions. To be honest, she doubted any other culture was aware of that fact. "If you want to understand what you'll be searching for, I can only tell you that you are a Mandalorian, and you were born on Mandalore," Arren continued, satisfied with her findings. "However, that is all the information I have. Your name is something you have to find on your own," she said, handing him the datapad.
"Is it written somewhere in here?" the boy asked, frowning slightly as he stared at the device in his hands.
"Yes and no," Arren said, leading them both to one of the tables. "I won't tell you what that means," she added quickly, sensing the incoming question before the boy even managed to open his mouth. "That is for you to find out. The tattoo on your left shoulder – do you remember what it looks like?"
"Yes," the boy replied, sitting in one of the chairs. "I think it's some kind of a bird. It looks like one, at least."
"Let your tattoo guide you through your search," Arren instructed. "First, read the section I've highlighted for you. Then, find the same tattoo. I believe you'll be able to connect the dots yourself."
Hours passed as the two sat in silence. The boy was reading, and Arren was watching him, scanning his face as his expression changed regularly as he dived deeper and deeper into the datapad's contents. Sometimes, he had to reread the same paragraph a few times before moving to the next section. At some point, Arren noticed him rubbing his left shoulder absentmindedly where his tattoo remained, hidden beneath his clothes.
"And?" she asked after the longest silence both had ever endured in each other's company. The boy blinked a few times, trying to soothe his aching eyes. Red veins could be seen in the whites of his eyes as he rubbed them tenderly. "Did you find anything of importance?"
A wide grin appeared on the boy's face as he looked at the older woman. "Yes."
"And this will be your quarters, young one," Master Zhar announced as they stopped in front of one of the many doors in an empty corridor. "Unfortunately, we don't have enough space right now to give you your own room, so you will have to share it with another student. I hope it won't be a problem?" the Twi'lek asked, turning his head to look at the boy. The young Mandalorian shook his head quickly. "Good," he commented, knocking on the door.
It slid open after a few seconds, revealing a tall human boy on the other side. By the look on his face, it was obvious that he was already asleep, but he did his best to compose himself when he noticed who stood on the other side.
"Master Lestin," he greeted the Twi'lek, bowing lowly.
"I'm sorry to disturb you at such a late hour, Alek," Zhar apologized. "But I'm afraid this matter can't wait till morning. I want you to meet your new roommate," he said, stepping aside to reveal the young boy standing behind his back. "We don't have a room for him right now, so for the time being, you two will live together. I hope it won't be a problem?" he asked the same question, receiving the same answer. "Very well. I'll see you at the usual time tomorrow, Alek."
"Master," the older boy replied, bowing once again.
"And I'll come for you right after breakfast," Arren said, turning to look at her student. "Get as much sleep as possible – tomorrow, we begin your training."
"Yes, Master Kae," he replied, bowing as well before he entered the room. The other boy stepped aside, allowing him to squeeze past him.
"Have a good night," Zhar said with a warm smile before he started walking down the hall, not waiting for the boys' responses. Arren followed him immediately, disappearing in the darkness of the night.
The room wasn't large, but it was obvious it could easily fit more than just one person – two beds standing on the opposite walls were an obvious clue. Just as the two desks, two chairs, and two wardrobes.
"I'm Alek," the older boy introduced himself as The Mandalorian boy put his bag at the feet of the unoccupied bed. "I'm Master Zhar's Padawan. And you are?"
"Raven," the boy replied, shaking his new roommate's hand.