I do not own any of the Star Wars and DC characters and ideas represented in this work.

A week has passed since Cassandra started her training. A week of teaching Cassandra bits and pieces in ways of using the Force and the Jedi Arts. Now was a step that Luke thought she was ready for to go further into her apprenticeship—constructing her very first lightsaber.

When he told her this yesterday, she smiled so wide that only a Krayt dragon would recognize it. Since he found her, Cassandra has become a little less shy and more open. Though he had known her for one week at the moment, he saw Cassandra as a very brave and determined young girl who is a very fast learner with a bright future ahead of her.

Cassandra was also a sixteen year old girl, and Luke has learned from her and her actions, whether she knew it or not. And from teenagers, which he was obviously one at one point, comes often impatience, sometimes blissful ignorance, very brash choices, and messy habits.

Luke thought, however, that with all of her flaws, which most weren't her fault, she still progressed to the point when he saw that she was ready for the responsibility and duty of carrying a Jedi lightsaber. After all, being trained to be an assassin with no contact with society will hinder one's personality tenfold.

Currently, it was morning, and the Earth's star was rising above the ocean's upheaval of waves. Birds were waking up from their evening roosts and singing. Luke got done with his morning exercises. He finished today's session, which consisted of running around the island many times.

Sweat made his training clothing cling to his body and make it damp. Taking deep breaths, he let the salty air fill his lungs while standing on the beach. He would be going right back to the house for a cool down stretch, a meditation session, and then breakfast, but he was waiting for Cassandra to catch up. Since her arrival, if she wasn't training, Cassandra would copy and do everything Luke did. Humbling, somewhat appreciated, maybe he thought it would better if she found more things to do other than model everything he di

He saw her coming up at a fast pace. She stopped for a few meters while drawing her breath. Luke managed to get clothes and other personal items for her and Saint the last time he went to get supplies. That included hygiene specific items since, well, she was a teenage human after all, and he found out the hard way that she doesn't really know anything about the human body other than how to cut and tear it in a very effective manner.

Still, he got her clothes that were in her size; style wasn't considered since he had to spend hours explaining a person's wardrobe and what it meant to wear different clothing.

She wore a gray tank top with similarly colored shorts. Whether it was training hard-wired into her brain or a show of strength, she decided to run across the beach and around the island, barefooted. She did ask about running across the forest for her morning exercise, but Luke gave her a hard look and firmly said no.

The first time Luke saw Cassandra, her face specifically, he thought to himself if she had any more scars on her body since her face was brutalized. He hoped not, but unfortunately, he was wrong.

He found that detail uncomfortable. Admittedly, it was more embarrassing than kissing Leia and finding out they were siblings. After a few days of taking her in, he was coming back from the mediation area outside and into the front door when he found her in the kitchen, naked.

Now to state the obvious, her intent wasn't something that would be considered harmful or gross; no, it was apparently a thing she would do in her own quarters back in that assassins cult. Being trained as a weapon, he guessed that having shame wasn't part of an assassin's focus.

But, in that split second when he saw her with no clothing, before immediately shutting his eyes and demanding an explanation to Cassandra to the point he was almost yelling, Embarrassingly, of course, he saw the scars. Again, like the scars on her face, they were created by a blade but weren't deep enough or placed in certain areas to cause any long lasting damage other than the skin not properly healing. He even saw some bullet scars on her shoulder and on her leg.

He gently asked about it after she put on some clothes; she didn't really give out any information. Out of fear and pain, she didn't reveal the details of her training and experience with the society. But, thankfully, a day or so after the embarrassing incident, she summoned the courage to tell him how she got the scars.

During her time with the Society of Shadods, Cassandra has been trained by multiple teachers, including her father. Luke only got his name through Cassandra's memories that weren't painful for her, David Cain. Her mother was her main teacher, the one who gave Cassandra hellish training sessions and gave her those scars as a form of "punishment." This "mother" didn't even bother to tell Cassandra her real name; she only told her the title she goes by, Lady Shiva.

Luke remembered learning about Earth's religions. When learning about the Hindu faith, the god known as Shiva was one of the three main deities of the religion, the Trimurti. Brahma is the god of creation. Vishnu is the god of preservation. Shiva is the god of destruction. He wondered why she would go by the name. Was it out of some sense of religious belief? Or some sort of extreme vanity that was on par with that of a Sith Lord? In either case, he found her behavior as a person contemptible.

Considering Cassandra's own sensitivity to the Force, he wondered: Can this Lady Shiva be force-sensitive as well? What Luke knows from Jedi knowledge is that parents with some Force sensitivity could have an offspring born with a strong connection to the Force. A strong force-user, however, can produce a child who is strong with the force with a non force-sentient; his mother and father are a testament to that

He suspected that Cassandra's mother and maybe her father were capable of using the Force, more so her mother. A shadow of unease surrounded him as he thought about the implications and possibilities. If her mother is force sensitive, Luke has no doubt in every five of his being that their paths will intersect and collide. If she is part of this secret society, these agents have already proven that they don't take deserters kindly. He thought that taking her daughter would definitely make her furious.

Lady Shiva being a possible force-sensitive meant that while forceful beings were being born, some, if not most, didn't know the meaning behind their abilities, and that would lead to trouble. When he first heard that the Jedi of old used to take infants and toddlers away from their families in order to make new members, Luke was originally horrified and abhorred the practice. However, with time and finally now, he fully understood.

The old Jedi didn't "kidnap" children because it would make it easier for them to "brainwash" them; it was because if they didn't, the galaxy would have been filled with force-sensitives that weren't fully trained and would have misused their gifts, or worse.

While it might seem the Jedi were trying to control the Force, policing who can and can't use it looks authoritarian. A population of forceful beings using their gifts responsibly and not knowing their parents is a trade-off compared to a galaxy of forceful beings reeking havoc. The Sith have proven that given time, an individual or group with the ability to use the force can spin the galaxy into turmoil if not given a proper moral code. He can only imagine the complications of tens of thousands of untrained force-users doing whatever they want with no restraint.

If it were to Luke, he wished there was a better alternative, but he understands why the Jedi had to do it— a necessary evil.

Luke had thought about it but went against it for a while. Now, looking at Cassandra, a girl whose parents don't know that they were playing with fire, it's making him reconsider. He's not saying that he will go house to house and ask parents, partners, and mates to give up their firstborn, but he also knows that he just can't do nothing and let what happened to Cassandra befall any child or person.

There has to be some way, right?

For now, he will have to meditate and process a way to fix the long term solution.

Thinking about Cassandra's mother, he only hopes that Shiva hasn't touched the dark side, but looking at the girl whose own mother mutilated her... he feared that Shiva might have had some contact with the dark. She will try to find Cassandra; that might be a possibility, and it's a possibility that he is prepared. He will defend Cassandra or die trying.

He chuckled grimly to himself. It's funny that the same thing must've happened to Ben when the same situation occurred to him: a Jedi protecting the child who is strong in the Force from their dangerous parent. It's a very strange thing that has now happened twice and hopefully will never happen again.

Coming back into reality and continuing to look at his young padawan, Luke worried about Cassandra's public appearance. It concerned him how any society that heavily and almost shamelessly valued personal beauty above most things might look at her differently. Being a Jedi meant giving off a calm, friendly appearance, regardless of their species and appearance. Though a young Jedi with scars that only a Mandolorian could dream of having would be troublesome, not to say that it would be impossible for her to solve situations due to her skin mutilations, most sentients sadly might be somewhat startled.

Hopefully, she could overcome that disability and show that a person's true self was inside, not out on the outside. He thought about the Jedi Knights of old and how they might have the same situation. From the first war against the Sith to the final battle against the Brotherhood of Darkness on Ruusan, knights that received scars and battle wounds might've appeared like grizzled warriors, but probably were no less wise and gentle than Master Yoda or Ben Kenobi.

That wasn't the only thing she would need to overcome. Another thing that he found out the hard way was her inability to talk and write. He easily discovered that she could barely speak. When he found her, she, at best, could say 'yes' and 'no', and saying her name needed a good amount of concentration.

At one point, during the very first days of her training, he had her write some things down but discovered that she just drew scribbles of nonsense and lines. Apparently, the Society of Shadows deemed illiterate assassins acceptable. Either their standards are grimly low or they see the gift of sentience as worthless; who knows?

Since his discovery, he has dedicated his and her time, in some portions outside of training, to having her learn to read and write properly. Cassandra, being obviously more interested in her training, specifically the combative side, had no interest whatsoever in writing or speaking.

But as her master and a pseudo-guardian, when Luke came to think about it, it's his duty to teach her to the best of his ability so she can be the best person she can possibly become. Young as she is, she doesn't know the importance of talking and writing. Besides, as the sole leader of the Jedi Order, he will not stand for an illiterate Jedi in his order.

At this point, she got better at saying her name and knew some words here and there. He's been teaching her English, and since English is one of Earth's most widely used languages, he has also been her aurebesh. But now, she could only say one word at a time; a sentence sounds and looks painful for her to speak.

He's been wondering if there's another way to teach her; she grows impatient every time they sit down and go into a reading session. Not that he likes it, but for her sake, to become a better person, she just has to know it. Maybe a strategy of teaching might have to be implemented where she can be engaged but still learn. He's so sure of himself that he'll think of something.

"Alright, you did good this morning," Luke said. "Now let's get cleaned up for today."

Cassandra, wiping the sweat off her brow, gazed at Luke, and quietly and almost timidly said, "Yes, Master."

They strolled off the beach and onto the trail that led them back to the house. Luke is the one upfront, with Cassandra following behind. He cocked a grin after feeling the jovial anticipation and excitement radiating off of her. It was like seeing a kid excited that they'd be getting a pet or some kind of gift. He fondly remembers how he felt when Owen and Beru gave him his first speeder.

They went back into the house. Luke stretched out, did his after-workout meditations, showered, and changed clothes. Cassandra stretched out, practiced a rigorous routine of martial arts stances and sequences, showered, and then changed clothes.

That was another thing he found too; Cassandra is a pure martial artist, the finest he had ever seen, and she doesn't really pay any real attention to meditations. Granted, she's not totally disinterested. The first time he taught her how to expand her mind and body to the force, she was stunned and overwhelmed by the feeling. In his opinion, though he had rarely seen her do it since the start of her training, he could feel that she liked it; she just didn't know it.

But seemingly and almost strangely, her current method to find peace and meditation wasn't the standard way of doing so; her way was to practice the many forms of hand-to-hand combat. Her assassin training, more or less, instilled that mentality. Luke will, however, admit that she has beaten him many times by just using their hands. He wasn't a pure master of the hands-only arts but knew he had experience in combat to suggest he wasn't green. She has proven that she can defeat him and Saint to the point where it seems like child's play.

Though she's been using the Force to instinctively augment her reflexes and strength, he and Saint can do the same but still find it difficult to take down this little girl. Luke has only beaten her a handful of times because he has used some tricks from his experience in martial arts and his general mastery of the Force just to even it out. If she had the same amount of forceful skills that were comparable to his knowledge, he might not stand a chance. She's also shown that she's naturally gifted in force precognition and force empathy and has a natural talent for shatterpoint that, if trained well, she can even surpass him in the ability.

While the master is humble to have a student with such raw skill, he even finds it funny that she would be teaching him a thing or two in her almost mastery of hand combat. He hasn't taught her any lessons on Jedi martial arts, yet he suspects that if he did, she would indeed excel in lightsaber combat.

He remembers how Ahsoka Tano once told him about how his father was in the same headspace, always training his martial skills and finding that relaxing and barely meditating.

Coming into the kitchen and sitting down on the table to have his breakfast, Luke saw that Saint was seated as well, eating his meal, which, like Luke's, was made up of rice, fish, bread, and fruit.

"Good morning, master," Saint Walker cheerfully greeted Luke as he started eating.

"It is," Luke said, then continued on eating.

"This must be a great day for young Cassandra," Saint suspected with a smile. "This will be a day she'll be creating her lightsaber, is it not?"

Luke shrugged, "I hope so," then took a bite.

Saint tilted his head and wrinkled his white, hairless face in confusion. "Oh, have you changed your mind, or has she done something wrong?" Saint sounded a bit concerned.

Luke shook and sighed while swallowing his bite of food. "No, it's not that; she's a smart girl and a fast learner. I just think that her lack of education might be a problem for her today." He pulled his head down just a bit and sighed, "Or any day for that matter. I don't doubt her; I'm just worried."

Saint's face darkened too, and he nodded. "I agree with you too; young Cassandra is troubled with many things." His face then brightened. "But she is a brave and determined girl; she will do fine."

Luke huffs out and shakes his head in disapproval of himself. It was doubtful; even if it was small, it's already hard to communicate with Cassandra unless he uses force to transmit what he's saying to her. He's grateful right now to have someone like Saint Walker to speak with, someone who has experience dealing with kids.

"You're right," Luke replied. "You're right." He plays with his food, somewhat losing his appetite. "I shouldn't—."

Luke stopped his tongue when Cassandra went out of the hallway and into the kitchen with her new clothes. Boots, pants, and jackets were all black. The jacket was opened, revealing a gray undershirt that's tucked in. The jacket had white stripes on the arm sleeves that were really similar to the yellow jacket he used to wear. The belt was similar to his and Saint's, more so to Saint since it too was brown. He was perplexed by why Cassandra wanted gear that was similar to his own but only shrugged it off.

Saint greeted his fellow padawan with a "Good morning, young Cassandra!"

Cassandra gave a slight nod to respectfully regard both of them and took her seat. Sitting across from Luke, her bowl of steaming food was already done and prepared for her, thanks to Saint making the food for all three of them. Pausing, she studied the bowl for three seconds very intently and picked up a spoon but didn't plunge it in yet.

Then, in another three seconds, she devoured her meal. In the first second, she gulped the handful of rice like there's no tomorrow. In the following second, she butchered the fish again, as if they had woken up from the dead and were trying to run away from her. In the last second, the eggs were the final victim to Cassandra's murderous appetite; if eggs could scream, then their cries wouldn't be heard as the sound Cassandra made was a loud 'slurp'.

A second passed, and she made a war cry for her victory over her slaughtered meal by making a loud 'burp'.

Another fact about Cassandra is that she loves food and loves to eat a lot. A. Lot. Maybe her mother barely fed her; maybe she just has a newfound love of food; whatever the case, she can at least learn table manners. Luke has done that actually, but found it difficult to make that specific lesson grasp.

Now the bowl was empty, and she was eating the rest of her food that was to the side in a less violent manner. When done eating, she looked at the bowl, reflecting even. After a long moment, she picked up the bowl, outstretched her arms towards Luke, and pointed down at the bowl while looking at Luke.

Luke did his best to not reveal too much disappointment in his voice. "Cassandra, what do you say if you want more?"

She drew back her arms just a little bit while holding the bowl. She thought about the question, looking at the table as if she could find the answer to it or at least a hint. A few seconds elapsed when she replied with the proper answer that sounded more like a question to herself than to him. "More…please?"

Though it was a small one, it was a victory to see Cassandra make some progress. He gave an approving smile. "Good job, and yes, you can."

He flicked a hand, and the pot of rice floated up onto the table. She looked at the rice pot, mesmerized even; she was about to grab hold of the pot to her side of the table before stopping in sudden revelation. She turned to Saint, pointed at the pot, and said, "More?"

Saint, already done with his food, shook his head and said, "No thank you, little sister. I'm quite full, actually." He patted his skinny, alien stomach in satisfaction.

She eyed Luke. He, like Saint, didn't need it anymore; the half-eaten plate did suggest otherwise. "I'm good, Cassandra; thank you."

Immediately after the words left his lips, she placed the pot of rice directly above her empty bowl and swiveled the pot so that it would be upside down. At first, the rice slowly started to move down, but with an eager, big pat from Cassandra's hand onto the bottom of the pot, the clumpy mass of rice smacked into the bowl. Obviously, the bowl wasn't meant to hold an entire pot's worth of rice; it was practically a mountain of white stuff. But somehow, she's making it work.

Eagerly, she lifts up her spoon and starts eating the mountain of rice. She fills her spoon with so much rice that it's just comical how much there is and weird how none of the grains fall off the utensil. Maybe that's another skill she was taught, Luke jokingly thought to himself.

Gulping down the rice at an unnatural speed and with hunger that a girl her size shouldn't have, the room was filled with the sound of her eating. Saint, either in disbelief or fascinated, just looked at Cassandra. As the eating continued, Luke couldn't help but slide deeper into the chair, as if Earth's gravity suddenly got heavy and his weight was pulling him down. Exhaustion came out of nowhere.

"So much for leftovers," Luke said loud enough where Cassandra should theoretically hear it, but she either didn't because her chewing with her mouth open was too much, she was in a completely different universe, or she didn't care.

After more chewing and gulping down rice, Luke felt the overwhelming annoyance that came to him when he had to endure her mouth being open while she was eating. That won't do. In blinding speed, he got up from his chair and held her mouth open before she could take another bite. He had her mouth in his right hand in a vice-like grip. She stopped eating, as it was clear that a hand stopping her mouth from closing and going back down would make that hard. She looked at Luke with surprise in her eyes.

"Chew," Luke said demandingly with delivered slowness to make very sure she got this lesson: "With your mouth closed, Cassandra. Understand?"

She stared at Luke for a few awkward seconds, then very slowly nodded. Luke took his grip off her mouth and went back into his seat. A few more awkward seconds passed with her mouth open when she got the sense to close it. She looked at the bowl, where what used to be a mountain of rice was now simply overfilled with it. Then she started to resume eating it, but now with her mouth closed. She ate the rice slowly at first, but after a few bites, she continued to huff down the rice at her original pace.

Luke couldn't help but release a sigh as he saw Cassandra destroy her rice. He pondered if any Jedi in the past had the same idea. He hopes to convince the Force that he wasn't the first. In any case, today was going to be a long day.

Cassandra is excited—no, not excited; it was a rush of adrenaline just waiting to burst out. So much so, during this morning's workout, she just wanted to run around the island forever. What words can explain it?

Today was the day she created her lightsaber.

The first time she saw a lightsaber, it was the first time she saw her master—powerful, bright, and protective. When she touched one for the very first time, it felt like she was touching a part of Master Skywalker and the Force itself. Every time she thought about the Jedi, an image of a near foot of metal in the form of a cylinder would pop into her head without fail.

She's been waiting for this since she started her training.

Sure, she's been taught other things and knows she'll be taught some more too. But this was big—way big. In hindsight, there were other lessons that she might have to improve and give more attention to, like telekinesis.

Yeah, Luke said that, when it comes to it, nothing is impossible when it involves the Force. Yet when trying to make rocks float, she always had trouble. Luke said that she's only a week in and that she shouldn't rush things, but Saint is only a week older into his trains than hers, and he can levitate rocks.

She knows that she's only starting, but she can't help but know that she can do better. Master Skywalker wants her to be the best she is, yet she's not showing her best. She feels that he is proud of her for being able to defend herself and proving that she's a great fighter. But when she has trouble meditating or doing anything related to the force, she can feel his disappointment. He hides it very well, but she can feel the deepest part of him being disappointed at something.

Is it her? Him? Or something else? None of it makes sense. Then again, since when has her training, or even her entire life, ever made any sense?

Disappointed or not, she's uncertain about her training. She doesn't really think about her time in the shadows; that was in the past, hopefully. But in the few moments she did recollect about those dark memories, she would think about times when trainers and even her mother would praise Cassandra for her skills.

But Luke isn't asking if she can suplex someone or if she can perform a leopard blow perfectly; he's asking her if she can be one with the Force or whatever a Jedi is supposed to be. She can't help but feel useless when everything she's done in her life up to this point she did well, yet when trying to do the things Jedi are expected to do, she turns out to be mediocre at that.

She has a good, no, a great feeling that she'll be great at with a lightsaber. Jedi are meant to do the best at what they do. Defend; she'll be great at that too. She proves to herself and her master that she can be the greatest Jedi ever and the best lightsaber duelist that the Force can produce.

This was her time to shine.

Now she was sitting with her legs crossed in the meditation area outside of the house, with Master Skywalker sitting across from her. He was meditating, eyes closed, and breathing that's pretty much nonexistent. It's always strange seeing her master meditate; some meditations do look normal, other times he floats mid-air, and sometimes he goes into these trances where he doesn't even breathe at all and is completely oblivious to the environment. It was like he was dead, but well, he isn't. The first time she saw him going into these deep meditations and didn't see his chest rising or any oxygen coming in and out of his nose, she panicked. But Saint was there to point out that it was a form of meditation that the master would sometimes perform. It was still too weird for her.

Luke asked her here to start her lightsaber lesson with a meditation session, something that she wasn't fond of. Now it's not like she hates meditations; she just finds them boring. Sometimes, she'll do one on her own time, which she partly enjoyed communicating with the Force. She would much rather do her katas or exercise around the island if given the chance. Admittedly and disappointed in herself, Luke asked her to meditate with him, yet now she didn't really even bother and just thought of the many styles Luke could teach her.

Another failure on her part, something that she can amend by being the absolute best in lightsaber combat.

Thinking that she might as well be kind and do what her master asked of her, she breathed in, lowered her shoulders, and went into the Force. It was always a strange feeling, a state of presence she hopes she'll get used to. Master Skywalker once said that when he went into the Force, he described it as going into an ocean. For Cassandra, going into the Force was like being bombarded with the wind; winds, cyclones, whirlwinds, and air currents gave her meaning.

Every creature and person has a unique voice that is carried by the wind, so she can hear it. No matter how small or fragile they are, their voices sing and distort the air with their songs. When she submerged herself in the force, it was like becoming the air itself; the air touched everything.

She can feel everything around her without even putting a finger on it. She can feel the ocean around them in terrifying detail, with waves crashing into the sand as if she were there. She can feel the bugs and other critters underneath or above the ground, moving in the forest and tunneling through the dirt in their own ways.

She can feel the trees and animals that make up this island in their entirety; she can feel their basic primal instincts: fear, joy, grief, and love. Either in the form of two bug colonies in a hyper induced rageful state of conflict between one another in a musky mist of pheromones. To the ecstatic joy of a bird mother watching her hatchlings crack open their eggs and see the world for the very first time. She is the island at that moment.

During her training, she came to realize that Saint Walker and Luke Skywalker's voices were much different from those of other living things. Their voices were fused into the wind rather than being carried by it. Their voices were louder and clearer, easily translated.

Saint Walker's voice was like a calm breeze passing by. Old but encompassing. Subtle and soothing.

Luke's voice was a calm and quiet storm just on the horizon. It didn't thunder or block the rays of the sun or light. It stood motionless and didn't hinder nature's routines. The eye of that storm that controlled it was beyond calm and peace; it let light from the sun guide it. It held its true power in reserve and at bay. The storm itself didn't even want to use its total strength. But if need be, it can unleash a tremendous force of power. It can strike thunder and lightning to the point where it'll be another star in the sky. It can unravel the landscape with raging winds and cyclones that would be devastating. It was a power that could be considered an actual force of nature.

Though she was being transubstantiated, she really didn't like this type of omnipresence. She can feel the very living force around her, the creatures and plants that give the force itself its energy, and vice versa. She doesn't like the very feeling of emptiness that happens occasionally—death.

Sometimes, she can feel the death of an insect. Other times, it's an animal with more intelligence and a range of emotions, and she can feel their loss of life like a punch to the gut. Either a small lizard getting eaten by a snake or a fish getting ripped apart by a shark that went into a trance-like frenzy. She felt the essence of living creatures leave their physical bodies; that was part of the force that she didn't like.

Faizul's eyes stared back every time something died.

Master Skywalker said that it is the way of the Force: every creature that has ever lived, is living, and will live is part of the Force one way or another.

"Our entire existence is a journey," he once said when he told her about the Force and her feeling of death. "Many will wrongly claim that these bodies we inhabit are the truth, and when these physical representations of our beings fail, death will take us, and there will be nothing but darkness to mock us. I say they are wrong. Death is just part of that very journey we all must go through. There is no such thing as a true death. We are luminous beings through the eyes of the Force; when we leave this world, we go to the Force like a raindrop going into an ocean. Then, those energies come back to the living, creating new life. Death is essential to life; without it, nothing will grow or come out of the womb. Death doesn't mean the end of the road; it's a road bump, nothing more."

"It might be painful at first; unfortunately for some, it might come horribly and early, but at the end of that transformation, we are greeted, comforted, and become one with Force. Everything dies, Cassandra; even the stars do. But after their deaths, new stars can come out and repeat the process. We are one with the force, and the force is one with us, and because of that, we can truly never die, Cassandra. Remember that. Never fear it."

His words echoed and ricocheted in her head. In technicality, Faizul never really died; he just transcended, that's all. And that means he's all around them: the animals, the trees, the people; he would be a part of them... would be a part of her.

Luke never said anything about being mad or disgusted at her for killing Faizul, or at least not yet. He said something about how it wasn't her fault and how she was forced into it. But her excuse? The excuse for why she did it.

She wanted to do it. She wanted to kill; she wanted blood on her hands, even if she would have and did regret it.

When she killed Faizul, when she sensed his death and that darkness, she originally thought that darkness came from the body. Yet after hours of thinking to herself, she can't help but ask herself: What if that darkness wasn't from Faizul but herself?

When she exited her trance, she saw Luke was awake as well. She hoped that he didn't sense her thoughts at that moment. Seconds passed of neither of them talking and only looking into each other, the sounds of the trees moving the wind, the stream not far from the house being a constant well of noise, and the occasional bird chirping breaking the absolute silence.

"A lightsaber," he finally broke the quiet pause, "is many things to those who only see it as just an object. To some, it is a weapon: to protect yourself and those around you. Others might see it as a useful tool, like a hammer or saw. Few look at it cynically and just see it as just performance art. And they are all right in their own sense." He demurred by raising a finger. "But they are also wrong, while a lightsaber can be those things and can be all of them at the same time. A Jedi's lightsaber is truly never one of them to heart. Because it is more than that."

He unclipped his lightsaber from his belt, faced the hilt horizontally away, and brought it between the both of them. He pressed a button on it, and the mesmerizing 'snap-hiss' sparked a beam of green and white energy from the top of the hilt. The color of the forest hummed with an aura of power and pure energy. She couldn't help but just state her awe of the blade. She thought, This is what moths must feel when being attracted to a light.

Master Skywalker continued, "No lightsaber is the same; even if the actual hilt is similar in design, they are all different. There is only one thing that separates each and every saber from one another, notwithstanding design; it is the same thing that gives the lightsaber its power."

He clicked a button, and the beam of energy retreated back into the cylinder. Then, putting the hilt on his palm, the lightsaber started to float up in the air and went back between them again. The hilt faced upward to the sky. Luke twitched a finger back, and on command, the hilt was disassembled. Parts and pieces that she didn't understand floated apart. The one piece that caught her attention was the small green screen rock.

The rock was somewhat clear, but it had the same emerald color the blade has. Through the Force, it was like a sun beaming with light and aura. It even had a voice—a voice that sounded just like... Luke?

"There are many things that make a lightsaber work," Luke explained, pointing to the tip where the blade comes out. "This is the emitter." He gestured to the ringed disks that were the grip and said, "This is the hand grip." He motioned at the silver cylinder with a rectangle erected to the side. "This is the power chamber; the power cell is stored here. That's where lightsabers are important; the button to the side is the activation stud."

Then he points to a black chamber with red wires tangled with it and says, "This is the crystal chamber. There are other things that make up the lightsaber that you'll need to know. But everything is relatively simple." With one stroke of a hand, everything but the green rock went back into place, smoothly creating his lightsaber. The green rock floated into his real hand and the lightsaber into his gloved one.

"Everything that makes a lightsaber is important but not unique; what makes a lightsaber standout from everything else is this," he made green rock levitate to her. She picked it up from the air and studied it with the cusp of her hands. It was like holding the force in her grip, power radiating off of it. It almost felt like she was holding Luke's hand as well.

"That is a kyber crystal," Luke said in a soft tone. "That is how the lightsaber can do so many things. Without it, the lightsaber is just useless." He put the lightsaber's top on the flat of his hand and pressed the button.

Cassandra's eyes went into wide disks, and she was about to say something, but when he pressed the button, nothing happened. Cassandra starred as Luke pressed the button again, and it was a final time to drive home the point. Nothing came out other than the clicking of the button.

He smiled at her and said, "I scared you, didn't I?"

Cassandra grimly nodded and studied the crystal some more. Luke extended his arm and offered the lightsaber to her. She took it; she had the hilt on her left and the crystal on her right. Even the hilt spoke in Luke's voice.

"The crystal," Luke said, "isn't just some rock or normal crystal; it is created and attuned to the Force itself. There are very few places where kyber crystals grow, but the places they do, they are usually strong in the force. The crystals are so connected and concentrate their energies from the Force that they can even be considered living things, with their own thoughts and uniqueness."

A time passed when she was done eyeing the strange objects and handed them back to Luke. Her master simply gestured, and both objects floated up in between them; the hilt disassembled itself, the crystal went into the black chamber, and the saber reconfigured itself. It calmly moved to his right hand.

He inspected for a second. He pointed the lightsaber upward, and the forest green blade shot up again. He deactivated it and placed the hilt to his right. Cassandra only gazed at Luke and the lightsaber with utter astonishment.

"Master Yoda once told me when I was in your position," he went on, "'The crystal is the heart of the blade. The heart is the crystal of the Jedi. The Jedi is the crystal of the Force. The force is the blade of the heart. All are intertwined: the crystal, the blade, and the Jedi. We are one.'"

Cassandra blinked at Luke. Does she really have to say all of that? A part of her is saying that this might be more than she can chew, and at the same time, she is thinking about the time Luke talked about Master Yoda.

Master Yoda was a Jedi master who taught and trained Luke in the ways of the Force. It was hard to believe Luke was in her shoes at some point. Master Skywalker has always talked about Yoda with great respect. Yoda was once the leader of the Jedi order before Luke's birth, but the thing that caught her by surprise was his age. Luke said Yoda was around nine hundred years old before he passed.

…Nine hundred years old.

Cassandra isn't good with numbers, but she knew that was a big number. That sheer amount of knowledge and power that he held must've been unthinkable. Entire generations of Jedi were taught and mentored by him. The number of battles, fights, conflicts, and sparring sessions was probably beyond any number she knew of. The many lightsaber techniques he no doubt knew might've filled an entire library.

He ought to be the greatest warrior to have ever lived.

And that warrior teaching Luke all of his knowledge and skills was enlightening to her and sparked her with anticipation. She can't wait to know all there is to know!

"You're probably wondering if you have to say all of that, aren't you?" Luke's question brought Cassandra out of her stupor and made her look at him.

"Yes," she replied.

Luke shifted another smile and said, "You will need to learn that mantra, but don't worry, I won't force you to say it till you're comfortable saying it. All I ask is that you repeat it in your head, okay?"

She nodded

He relaxed and sent out a satisfied sigh: "Good." He then turned his face into a look that meant he was serious. "I need you to understand this, Cassandra, and understand it well. Before we go anywhere, you need to know this. A lightsaber, like being a Jedi, and using the Force require great responsibility. We hold this tremendous power, but just like how we are easily drawn into the light, we can be dragged into the dark with no effort. Like the Force, we must respect the lightsaber's power and what it means to carry it. It is not a toy. Do not let anyone touch it unless there is a dire need for it and you completely trust them. This is your life. Understand?"

There was no contest for an argument.

"Yes, master." Cassandra bowed her head.

Luke relaxed and blew out air. "Very good then."

He took something from his pocket and reached out to whatever was in his hand with a fist. She felt whatever it was; it was like the kyber crystal, but different.

"This is yours." He twisted the clenched fist skyward and opened it, revealing a clear, skinny rock—a kyber crystal.

She took a few moments to look at it. It was like Luke's crystal. She felt the Force emanate from it. It had a voice too, but instead of sounding like Luke's voice, it was bland. It was a monotone voice that had no pitches or dips into its chords. A voice that did not have color or tone to make it unique. It was a blank expression that someone could draw and make into a crescendo to give it purpose.

Taking the crystal into her head, she can feel the Force enter her like never before. Her eyes couldn't just leave it alone.

"Now," Cassandra heard Luke say over her focus. "I want to close your eyes," he said. "Don't think of anything other than yourself and the crystal, and connect."

"Con…c-connect?" She stumbled upon her question.

"Yes, don't actually think of yourself and the crystal as two separate entities; connecting with them will bring you together. The crystal is raw; no one is connected to it. Bond with it now; it will always be part of you, and you'll be part of it."

She didn't totally get what the cryptic message was, but only understood it as her and the crystal being whole.

"But," he said, stopping her concentration by a hair, "when you bond with it, the crystal might make you see things—a vision. It'll be either things it'll want you to see or something that's already with you."

"With…me?" Cassandra dreadfully echoed, lowering her eyebrows down to her closed eyes.

"You'll see, you'll see, but remember, don't be afraid."

Cassandra held the crystal tighter. Going deeper and deeper, it almost felt like the crystal was becoming her, and she was becoming it. She can feel the crystalline structures that make it up—a pattern of billions of particles stacked onto one another. Deeper and deeper, her closed eyes, which clouded her vision with darkness, were overwhelmed by a bright light.

Whiteness was all she saw until the white turned green. Sounds were beginning to form. She thought she was back on the island, but she saw different trees and different bird calls that were completely alien. Finally, her vision cleared, and she noticed that she was standing within a jungle, with no house or Master Skywalker to be seen.

"Well, what do we have here?" A deep voice came from behind her.

She pivoted to see the stranger, and her eyes went into shock.

The stranger, or whatever, was like a ghost! He had a translucent image that was colored a whitish blue. She can see the forest right through him!

Despite his ghostly color, she can still see some of the distinctive colors he has. He was a man with ebony skin, a bald head that shinned, and clean shaven. He was tall, well built, and had broad shoulders. He wore tan colored robes with brown boots. He wore an over cloak robe that was a shade of brown.

His voice in the Force spoke to her. He was powerful, not too far from Luke. His voice spoke of confidence, skill, determination, and a will of steel.

The man cocked an eyebrow and placed his arms on his chest. "Well, are you going to look like a grasser in headlights, or are you going to take a step toward me so I can get a good look at you?"

Cassandra didn't respond and deduced that this must be some kind of dream or vision—something that Luke explained could happen. Reluctantly and fearfully, she went closer to the man.

"There you go." The man studied her up and down. "Ahhh," he said, satisfied, "Cassandra Cain: Daughter of Lady Shiva and David Cain. One who is all. Born to be in the shadows, yet brought into the light. To be a weapon and nothing more."

Cassandra's draw dropped, "You…know….me?"

The man chuckled. "The Force sees and knows everything; it holds the truth. Trying to hide from it is no different than trying to not breathe in the air that you need or deny your body water."

"Who…are…you?"

"Who am I?" The man asked, "I'm nobody; that's who. I'm well past the living, if that answers it. Cassandra's eyes kept looking wide at the strange man. "You might ask who, or more accurately, what am I? Tell you the truth," he shrugged. "I don't know."

"Maybe the man I used to be was so stubborn and strong in the Force that I left an imprint throughout the cosmos. Maybe the Force had something in store for me when I died, and this is the very reason why I exist," he shrugs again. "Or maybe I'm just a figment of your imagination, and you're starting to go crazy. It'll just be like the Force itself: a complete mystery."

She looks around the jungle, spotting plants and bugs that aren't from Earth. "Why…am…I…here?"

He snorts, "Ain't that the question of the day? "Why are we here?" That's been the question since the dawn of time." He shook his head. "We're all just waves, and the universe is a wide ocean. We're created in a short span of time; when we peak, we fall and just recede back to where we came from. The Force creates a path for us to follow while we can forge our own. Does that answer your question?"

Cassandra went from a face of shock to a face of confusion. "You…make…no…sense."

He snorts, "Sense has nothing to do with anything. You sure do ask a lot of questions for a girl who's quiet."

There was a long, tangible moment of silence between Cassandra and the ebony man. After a long pause, the man huffed out an air of irritation. "Alright, I think I know why you and I are here." He narrowed his eyes and said, "You have darkness."

She tilted her head. "What?"

"You have a darkness, a big one at that. You got it from your mother from the looks of it."

More confusion set in for her. "There's nothing to be ashamed of, Miss Cain." The man said, "We all have darkness." He gestured to himself, "Me." He pointed at Cassandra and said, "You," and shrugged. "Even your master has darkness within him, much like his father had."

Cassandra grew suspicious and turned her eyes into slits. "My master... a good man."

The man showed the plans of his hands: "And he is; there's no doubt about that. But even he has a dark part of him. Especially when he last dueled with his father."

"His…father?"

"Huh, guess he didn't tell you where he's from or what type of person his father was. You're not the only child who suffered from their parents' sins. Then again..." he paused, and his face darkened. "All the blame can't be shifted to his father. He, like your master, was once a good man. Brash and violent, maybe, but a good man at heart who just struggled with his inner demons, and unfortunately, he lost. I'll admit that many people failed him, including myself."

Cassandra only stared at the man, whose face only stood in regret. She looked at her feet until saying, "I…have…a…darkness?"

"We all do; I certainly did. I always struggled with mine. But I didn't actually face it till I went to a place called Haruun Kal. That's where, well." He looks around the jungle. "This isn't actually Haruun Kal," he points downward. "This is just a representation of it. But regardless, I came to the conclusion that whether you're a Korunnai or Balawi, Loyalist or Separatist, from Coruscant or from Dantooine, everyone has a dark side they must face."

Cassandra only blankly starred, as all of those words had no meaning to her. "How…do…I…end…darkness?"

He chuckles as though he heard the greatest joke ever told. "Eh, darkness isn't something you just get rid of, little girl. It's part of you, whether you like it or not. I once thought, as you do, that we could get rid of our worst parts of ourselves. I once thought places like Haruun Kal," he gestures around him. "The jungle itself even brings darkness into people." He shook his head. "I was wrong. Darkness can come from an internal source just as it can come from an external one."

"But…how….I…end…mine?"

The ghostly man started to look disappointed. "I don't think you're really getting the message straight through. I sure didn't the first time and learned it the hard way."

"How…do…I…win? How…to…kill…it?" Cassandra said it with a mixture of determination and worry.

The man only gave her a smirk. "You know, you remind me of my older self. You want to fight till the end; you want to win or die trying. Fair enough, I suppose. But before you go, let me tell you something, Cassandra Cain, and heed it well. Remember what this wise and powerful Jedi Master once told me: 'We don't have to win; all we have to do is fight.'"

Cassandra was star-struck and couldn't believe it herself. A Jedi Master? Like Yoda? She had so many questions. "You…a…Jedi?" She couldn't contain her disbelief.

The man put on an amused smile. "Took you this long to figure that out?" He shook his head side to side in an exaggerated manner. "Hmm, I'm greatly disappointed in you, Cassandra Cain; here I thought I was somewhat admiring you." He looked up to the sky and said, "It looks like your time is up. May the Force be with you."

Before she could say or do anything, the white light engulfed her world once more.

She opened her eyes. The world came back to her. The island, the meditation area, and her master were in view. She looked around and saw that the sun was higher up in the sky than it was before she went into that trance. How long was she out?

"You're awake," Luke happily stated, still in a meditative position. He looks down at her clenched fist, which had the crystal. "And it seems you have a surprise in store."

She tilted her head downward to see what he meant. The fist was still holding the crystal in place in her hand. But something was different now. Its voice wasn't bland anymore; there was life to it. She heard a voice that felt familiar, but she couldn't explain it. She slowly unraveled the fist to reveal the crystal. It was still there, for sure, but definitely not the same.

The crystal, instead of being a white crystal color, was now a vibrant amethyst that sparkled through the Force. It was like her somehow—a mixture of dark and light.

"Purple huh?" Luke said in amusement, "It suits you."

She only stared in wonder at the crystal that was between her fingers.

"That was the first step in creating your lightsaber," Luke said. "I hope whatever it showed you, you'll understand in time."

Yeah, understand in time, hopefully. She nodded to him.

Luke smiled. "Then we can continue to the next phase; I hope you're ready."

She looked back at the dazzling purple gem and gripped it with her fist again. She turned her face to him with complete confidence and determination for whatever came next. Fighting was her whole thing—her language, lightsaber fighting, was probably no different. She'll learn all she can and be the best that she can be! Today is going to be a good day!

Today was a bad day. And the day before. And the day before that as well. When she imagined how she would be creating her lightsaber, she thought that, for the most part, Luke would be making it for her. What she didn't expect was spending the rest of the day learning about the components of a lightsaber, the same day she bonded with her kyber crystal.

The day afterward, when she drilled all of the pieces and diagrams of a lightsaber the night before, more or less pulling an all nighter behind Luke's back, she finally got to pick the pieces for her lightsaber. Only to find that putting together a lightsaber isn't as easy as it looks.

From making sure the lens assembly is perfectly aligned to placing the emitter matrix in the right direction, everything needed to be in the right position, or else the lightsaber would explode, taking her hand along with it.

She had help, of course; every time she completed assembling it and ran into a problem, he was always there to make sure she did the right thing. Annoyingly, in times when she thought she made it correctly down to the specs, he was there, telling her she couldn't turn it on before he checked it, and every time she did something wrong.

Saint did help her here and there, since he had already made his lightsaber. Cassandra was relieved, since if he can do it, she can. While also jealous that he has his and she doesn't.

Still, she found herself remaking the lightsaber time and time again. When she made it, Luke would say she did it wrong and show her how to do it properly. When she remade it, she fixed the fault but made a new one in the process. It was a vicious and annoying cycle.

It was midday; she may have taken two or three breaks since this morning. She sat in the meditation area, nearly finishing the construction of this attempt. She forgot how many times she had created it, disassembled it, and did it all over again. At a certain point, does it really matter?

Master Skywalker was in the sparring square with her fellow padawan, Saint Walker. Both had their lightsabers out. Green fans of energy weaved in the air and 'whooshed' between them.

It was a sparring session—nothing more. It was kind of clear since all of the attacks were made by Saint while Luke only stood at the defensive. Saint's moves were direct but honestly clumsy, though she couldn't say if that was the style Saint was using or his skills. Saint Walker wasn't bad—inexperienced, for sure—but not horrible. He's able to handle himself hand-to-hand, but swordsmanship wasn't his thing. But she wondered if he could be better at a defensive approach than an offensive one. When they went hand-to-hand, he was a lot better at defending against her attacks than going head-on.

Luke, though, was, well, the master. His blade was tight to his body, elbows tucked in, and the blade outward. He didn't move an inch; he blocked and parried every single attack Saint made.

Both were using the Force to anticipate and predict each other's moves. It was something Cassandra and her mother were able to do. But Luke defined it as force precognition: the Force telling your opponents your next move and warning you of danger.

But in her training, Luke had expanded her sense of perception to a level never thought possible. One of them was foresight. It was the ability to see without actually using her eyes. It was to abandon your eyes and ears, then let the force be those eyes and ears. It was seeing through the world beyond sight. It was something not even her mother would be able to do.

It was confusing when he first trained her how to use it. He made her wear a helmet that couldn't make her see or hear completely. He had a floating ball called a remote shoot energy bolt that sounded like a bed fire at her so she could dodge.

When she finally honed it in, she was amazed by the details of the world shown to her without her eyes and ears. When the Force warned her, it could be described as a gust of wind hitting her at the back of the head and a voice whispering to her from it. When she was guided by the force, it felt like a powerful air current moving her legs, arms, and body into the position where they needed to be, almost like a hand. It was instincts taking control—something her mother said to be weary of but something her master said to trust.

Another thing that Luke taught her was a unique ability he and she have: shatterpoint. For the longest time, she always thought her body ready ability allowed her to feel her opponents weakness just like she could predict their movements, but Luke taught her that wasn't the case.

Shatterpoints were moments when the Force revealed an enemy's or even an object's weaknesses to one who had the ability. The Force can show stress lines, cracks in the armor, and fracture points that didn't need much effort to penetrate. One can try to break a slab of metal that has the same amount of thickness as a battleship hull and might find it very difficult. But with Shatterpoint explained by Luke, one can find a small fracture, invisible to the naked eye, and with just one tap of a finger, the slab can fall apart like it's nothing.

Master Skywalker once said, "When we have Shatterpoints, Cassandra, we just don't see how people break; we see how they fall apart."

To Luke, he said that shatterpoints seen by him glow to him, beacons that guide him on how to break people and objects. To her, when she started to sharpen the sensations, shatterpoints came to her like pockets of air escaping from their fracture points. Through the cracks and fault lines, she can feel the air escape and howl out of the holes. The wind calls to her, instructing her on how to break those holes.

Though it was a gift from the Force, Luke stated that Saint Walker has the Force and can learn the ability. It could take a lifetime for him to learn it, while it came to Luke and Cassandra naturally. Luke suspected that Cassandra's sensations of shatterpoints might be stronger than his, and with good training, she could even use shatterpoints to know what actions can break entire events and situations. They were intangible, yet breakable.

She found it unbelievable that, in something like a situation, she could sense its weak points and exploit them to the fullest. Then again, she found herself trying to question and limit what the Force can and can't do.

She concentrated back onto her lightsaber. She closed the compartment where it was finally finished. She held it in a two hand grip and could already feel the excitement exploding in her.

This is it! This must be the time!

She stood up and waited for their sparring session to end. Minutes passed of, more or less, Saint slashing at Luke but finding his defense impenetrable. She was amazed that even when Saint was striking to the point where his arm and lightsaber were a blur, Luke held his ground almost effortlessly.

She can't wait to spar with Master Skywalker!

Luke finished the fight, but by locking their sabers together, the blades connected, and sparks vomited out of the intersection. Luke then leaned forward with his might and pushed Saint off his feat. Both hilts retracted their beams of energy. Saint went to the ground and got back up to perform a respectable bow; her master did the same.

Saint Walker went to the side of the house while Luke paced to an eager Cassandra, presenting her lightsaber with her palms flat.

"Done?"

Cassandra bobbed her head quickly.

He grabbed her lightsaber and closely inspected it with both hands. He opened the shaft to reveal the emitter matrix that glowed her personal kyber crystal. He stared at it for a few heartbeats and then closed the lightsaber. He extended back to her, "Looks good."

The corners of her mouth went into a great smile. "But," Luke said, which totally reversed her smile into a frown. He opened the lightsaber casing to show her the inside of it, specifically the crystal storage area. She moved her head close to it and said, "You've inverted the emitter matrix; it would work, but the only thing it'll be doing is taking off your hand." He said it dryly.

Looking at it for a few seconds,

He's right.

She lowered her head down in defeat again.

He closed it and handed it back to her. "Take a break, Cassandra. Go eat, and maybe meditate on it." He said. He went back inside, probably for lunch and to talk with Saint.

She stood there alone outside, head down, at the lightsaber that was in her hands. Go eat? Sure, she'll do that. Go take a break. Yeah, she'll do that when she has her lightsaber made.

She went back inside like her master said, quickly ate, and got back outside in order to finish her lightsaber.

The sky was turning dark. Less birds were out, and it was becoming less hot. Cassandra, still trying to create her lightsaber in the perfect way, sat in the meditation area. Her master was with her, though he was meditating not too far.

Like this morning and these recent days, she's been constructing and reconstructing her lightsaber but finding no success in actually getting it right. She clicked the casing to make it close and finished this current attempt at creating the lightsaber.

She gave a tire, half eyed, a look on the outside, then shifted the compartment open to look inside.

It was still wrong.

She remade her lightsaber so many times that she knew what needed to be fixed but kept on making it wrong at the same time. Just as fast as she made it, she disassembled the lightsaber piece by piece. When she was done, she kept staring at the components that were organized in areas where she could easily pick them up and put them together. They all stood motionless in front of her while she slouched forward.

Oh, how can she do this? It's been two days now, and she's been hitting a brick wall every time she makes her lightsaber. She can't seem to troubleshoot the problem. Is it the lightsaber? Is it her master? Or maybe her? Maybe it's the Force telling her that she's not made to be a Jedi. Maybe it's telling her that she's never meant to create, but to destroy.

Nothing was making any sense, and frankly, to her, she didn't care even more since she was tired. It was one thing when she trained to the point where her legs became wobbly for three days straight while being in the shadows. It's another time when she uses her brain non-stop for something as simple as putting pieces of metal together.

Unwilling, her eyelids shifted down despite her trying to resist the call of sleep. She might not have the will right now to keep on making her lightsaber, but she sure has some of it to go over the process of making it in her head.

So that's what she did. Surreal like, she went step by step into making her lightsaber. Each time she made it, disassembled it, and redid it again, every attempt became more vivid than the last. In the realm of dreams, she really didn't know how long she'd been doing this, nor did she care, in all honesty.

In one attempt, she put in the time to slowly put together the parts in their designated locations out of repetition. To her, it felt like she really was putting together the lightsaber. The way the cold metal felt, the rubber wires bent, and the sharpness of the crystal was just so real it was hard to believe. Finally, in this attempt, she knew that it was perfect—the textbook definition of how the lightsaber should be constructed and made.

Now if only she could do this in the real world. It was funny, she could make the perfect lightsaber in her dreams, but that was a dream. It was unattainable, something she could only imagine.

The image of the lightsaber only floated in her mind, mockingly. It frustrated her. Not wanting to see the surreal image anymore, she made herself wake up and…

Oh…

The lightsaber was floating in the air, just a pace away from her face. She looked over to see if Master Skywalker was doing this but concluded he was still meditating and was not doing anything. It dawned on her that she made the lightsaber with no hands. She noted that the sun fully went down and night held over the island; how long was she out?

She gawked at the hilt for what seemed like forever until she found the courage and strength to take the lightsaber. It felt surprisingly good. Somehow, she had a surge of confidence go to her and go on to Luke.

The blonde sensed her, and he woke up to see her offering the lightsaber to him. Not speaking a single word, he took the lightsaber and inspected it for no more than a few heartbeats. He looked up to her, offered back her hilt, and said, "Try it."

She blinked a couple of times as her brain was trying to catch up on what he said. Did she have something blocking her ears, or was she so tired that she was becoming delusional?

"What?"

"I said," Luke replied, "Try it, you know? Turn it on."

She blinks some more. But he didn't even take the time to inspect and open it to see if she did anything wrong?!

She pointed at her lightsaber with a look of extreme dubiety and distress, "Not…look?"

Luke gave a shrug nonchalantly, "Why would I look at something that's already perfect?"

Prefect…

She blinked. Then she motioned her hand toward the lightsaber. She slowly reached out for it and grabbed it. He stood up and only watched her. The lightsaber felt surprisingly heavy to her now. A sweat or two was coming from her forehead. She heard her heart beating like a drum. She placed two hands on the grip, placing the emitter upward.

She closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and her thumb clicked the activation stud.

A surge of power from the Force erupted from the hilt. She heard the sound of a 'snap hiss' crackle through the air. As she kept her eyes closed, she saw a flash of purple penetrate her darkened vision. It was like a cloud of amethyst standing alone in a sea of black. The lightsaber got even heavier, but she maintained a strong grip even though it made her dip down a little. The warm hum filled her ears.

She opened her eyes and didn't want to blink.

The bar of white and purple energy said hello to her. It stood a meter tall from the hilt and glowed that mesmerizing aura of amethyst in the night. She slowly rocked it side to side, the blade voiced out a 'whoosh' with each swing. She had a hand near the blade, only to find there was no heat coming from it.

Luke stood beside her, having a proud expression, "Well?…"

She reluctantly pressed the activation stud and the purple energy retreated to the hilt. She only turned to him. She wasn't in control of her body when she stepped forward and wrapped her arms around him. Instinctively, she was going to get out of it since the last time she tried to do this to someone, she got a slap on the face, but then found arms around her, making it difficult to do so.

So this is what a hug feels like?

A few moments passed when Luke was the first to get out of the hug with both arms on her shoulders. "Is there a special occasion for this?"

She pointed at her lightsaber and said, "You…did…this?"

He had a curious look. "I did? Well, all I did was push you along in the right direction. That," he pointed out, "was all of you."

Cassandra had both hands on the lightsaber and stared at it. "I think," Luke trailed off with a smirk, "We're gonna have an interesting day tomorrow, aren't we, Cassandra?"

She nodded. "Well then," Luke said, "I think it's a good time to go to bed, ain't it?"

Sleep was the last thing she wanted to do right now, but she complied. Not letting go of the lightsaber from her grip and sight, she went inside and straight to her room. Closing the door, she closed the lights to make the room pitch black. Then, the lightsaber returned to life.

A purple glow illuminated the center of her room, and an amethyst haze swallowed her body. Her mouth shifted into a devilish grin. She performed multiple sword katas that were instilled in her since all she can remember. She did it slowly since she didn't want to wake up Luke or Saint. Fans of purple lit the room. It surprisingly got lighter over time.

She didn't really know for how long she'd been doing this. A couple of minutes? An hour? Half of the night? It didn't matter. She waved the blade to tell her arms got tired, and fatigue was finally taking its toll on her mind. She deactivated the lightsaber and shifted to the bed. She clung to it like it was a person. It felt warm to her and comforting.

She kept that smirk when she finally fell asleep.

Notes

So was trying to see what Force powers Cassandra might have other than precog, think in some part of her comic run, her body reading ability she can see people's weaknesses, so i kinda of incorporated that into Shatterpoints. Like the Mace Windu cameo? Anyways, next chapter will be getting back into the JLU main story if you were all wondering.