Coruscant Prime broke over the horizon, spilling pale yellow light over the city. Ashkhen leaned against the balcony railing, thinking the overcast skies were not the only reason the world seemed a little toned down.

Master Balian stood next to her, features inscrutable, mental shields tight. Ashkhen made a few attempts to quest towards him, but eventually gave up and hung her head. Her presence dimmed through the training bond.

"I'm sorry for failing you."

Master Balian grabbed her shoulders and pulled her into a tight embrace, one hand resting atop her head.

"Oh, but it's the other way around!"

Ashkhen needed a minute to regain her composure. She glanced up with a rueful smile. "Aren't you mad at me?"

Master Balian slowly shook his head, then put both hands on her shoulders, holding her at arm's length.

"One can always trust you to tell it like it is."

"They used my mistake to diss you. I will never let that pass."

"Ashkhen, there's mutually respectful disagreement, then there's burning bridges and setting banks ablaze and boiling rivers away while you're at it."

The ex-Padawan dropped her gaze, absorbed by the criss-crossing pattern of her laces. Master Balian waited patiently for her to count and recount the eyelets of her boots.

"Yeah, but…" She risked an upwards glance. "They didn't—I mean, are Jedi supposed to be that detached?"

Master Balian's eyes crinkled with humour. "Well, you definitely showed them how to put passion in compassion."

He turned back to look over the waking city, giving his protege the privacy to wipe her eyes as she laughed. Drawing on his teachings once again, Ashkhen deftly changed the subject.

"I've been meaning to ask, how's your new Padawan?"

"We've yet to settle into a dynamic," Master Balian, ever the diplomat, said. "She hasn't expressed any opinion or insight besides 'Yes, Master.'

She couldn't supress a smirk. "Must be daunting to take the stage after me."

"Ashkhen."

What she didn't say was how daunting it felt to take her first steps into wider world, to rely solely upon her own knowledge, and leave all the familiar order and structure behind. The control over the course of her life had been thrusted into her own hands—a prospect as exhilarating as it was terrifying.

"Would you rather I had gone with the Corps?" she suddenly asked.

Master Balian shook his head after a long, thoughtful silence. "I don't disagree with the Council that the life of a Jedi Knight is not what the Force holds for you. But a fishery?"—he snorted—"Talk about a waste of potential."

Ashkhen zipped up her jacket against the cool breeze, a motion entirely different from straightening the tabards or pulling the robes close.

"That looks so surreal," Master Balian voiced their mutual thoughts.

Ashkhen thrust her hands in her pockets. "Well, I told the quartermaster 'civilian', and this is the best he could do." She gave a shrug. "I have about twenty-five thousand years of fashion to catch up on. I'm thinking about getting a tattoo."

"Baby steps, Ashkhen."

Master and former apprentice stood silent for a while, looking into the distance as the world slowly turned on its axis, and morning gradually took the place of dawn. Master Balian stood silent, basking in the light. The pale gold rays of the sun painted his red skin bronze, giving his angular features a sharp edge, reminiscent of the statues by the Temple's entrance. Ashkhen held up her right against the light, noting the warm yellow hue it lent her skin.

"Luminous beings are we," she muttered.

Master Balian turned towards her, a mixture of pride and unease on his face.

"Ashkhen, promise me you'll seek me out if you ever need help."

She stepped back from the railing to properly face Master Balian, and made a deep and formal bow. "Thank you for everything, Master. It was an honour to be your apprentice."

Master Balian bowed in return. "I'm grateful for the time we've spent together. I've learned a lot from you, Ashkhen."

Ashkhen grabbed the strap of the small backpack that contained all her worldly belongings; a spare set of clothes, her datapad, and a small holocron—a parting gift from Master Balian—and swung it over one shoulder.

"You know…" she let a grin spread across her face as she turned to leave, "For the first time in a long while, I have a good feeling about this."

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Author's note:

Dear Reader,

Thank you so much for sticking it out till the end! I hope you had as much fun reading it as I had putting it together. Any sort of constructive criticism is warmly welcome and appreciated.

Ashkhen is going to stay on Coruscant for the time being to try her luck at flying solo in the wide world—even if in our experience, there's no such thing as luck.

Her story continues in the next installment, Meander.