Chapter 4 - Shattered

Edric rushed through the sterile, brightly lit corridors of the star destroyer without much thought. His mind didn't even register when he pushed a trooper out of his way, slamming him against the bulkhead; or when others were yelling after him to slow down. His chest felt like a war drum as he ran at full speed. He reached the medbay in mere minutes even with the turbolift journeys. The boy paused only a second before the doors hissed open to reveal the cold, clinical room beyond. As the air rushed out, an antiseptic scent stung his nostrils, as if he had walked into a field of crushed Vratixian barley. His breath caught in his throat as he saw the only occupied bacta tank.

Master Kael Asher floated within, his body covered in bruises and cuts that the healing fluid was slowly working on. Edric's gaze was drawn to the respirator mask covering Kael's face, the steady rise and fall of his chest the only sign of life. The transparent blue liquid seemed to swallow him whole, isolating him in a world of suspended animation.

"Master…" he muttered to himself. Edric's knees felt weak, like they might give out from under him. He couldn't tell if it was the exhaustion or the grief or both. He gripped the edge of a nearby medical console for support, the cold metal biting into his palm. His master appeared so vulnerable, so unlike the unshakeable figure he had always known.

A medical droid approached, its servos whirring softly. "The extent of his injuries is severe, and it is uncertain whether he will regain consciousness," it stated in a monotone voice.

The words hit Edric like a blow. The droid continued speaking, but its voice became a distant noise as Edric's mind raced. Images of the battle on Tarnos flashed before him—explosions, blaster fire, the moment he saw his master thrown through the air like a ragdoll. What could he have done differently? He should have stay close as he was instructed but he didn't listen — again.

He tried to steady his breathing, and called upon the Force to calm his turbulent soul. The Jedi teachings whispered to him, reminding him that a true Jedi must not let grief cloud their judgment. There is no emotion, there is peace, he remembered the mantra from the Code. Yet, as he stood there, feeling the console under his fingers and the pulse of life support machines, the doctrine felt like an impossible mountain to climb. How could he not grieve when his master, his guide through the chaos of the galaxy, lay on the brink of death?

He tried to feel Kael's presence more clearly, but the connection was only like a whisper in a storm. The darkness gnawed at the edges of his master's consciousness, threatening to pull him into its abyss. His mentor, his guide, the one constant in his life, was slipping away, and there was nothing he could do to stop it.

The Jedi Code preached detachment, yet in the reality of war, surrounded by the sterile, emotionless hum of the medbay, those teachings felt as fragile as glass. He had been taught that attachments were a path to the Dark Side, but wasn't his bond with his master what had kept him grounded, given him strength? Jedi were supposed to be family. Who wouldn't grieve for their father or brother?

A single tear slipped down his cheek, followed by another, and then another, until they flowed freely, carving clean tracks down his dirt-streaked face. He pressed his forehead against the glass of the tank, shutting his lids and letting the sorrow engulf him.

"I'm sorry, Master," he whispered, his voice breaking. "I should have been there. I should have protected you."

The weight of his guilt was a heavy chain, coiling tighter around his neck. He thought of all the times Kael had saved him, guided him, taught him. The fact that he might never hear his master's voice again, never feel the reassuring hand on his shoulder, was unbearable.

The medical droid's soft beep brought him back to reality. "Padawan Kane, I will continue to monitor Master Asher's condition. If there is any change, you will be informed immediately."

Edric nodded numbly, his forehead still pressed against the glass. The war had never felt so stark, so merciless. For all their training, all their strength, even Jedi were not immune to the ravages of conflict.

As he finally pulled away from the tank, he sighed. He had to be strong, not just for himself, but for his master. He wiped the tears from his face. Edric decided to stay with him until they arrived back to Coruscant. He pulled up a chair to sit beside the bacta. As he leaned back, he noticed his own distorted reflection in the glass cylinder and the person there seemed unfamiliar. His otherwise boyish cheeks looked older, eyes bloodshot and sunken with dark bags under them. He could certainly use a shower and some sleep, but he didn't want to leave his master's side. Not like in the battle.

There is no emotion, there is peace, he repeated the Jedi Code again in his mind. He dimmed his sight again, and attempted to connect with the Force around him, imagining an endless field of tall grass swaying with the wind. The breeze was the Force, while the blades of grass were life dancing to its will. This was Edric's refuge. It felt familiar and safe like a home he never knew or had. Away from all the noise.


As Edric sank deeper into his meditation, the peaceful field around him began to waver. In the middle a door shimmered into existence. Edric slowly walked through it and the environment around him swirled and shifted. Gone was his personal sanctuary, and suddenly he found himself in one of the training rooms of the Jedi Temple.

Sunlight cascaded through immense, crystalline windows, painting the polished marble floor with streaks of gold and silver, like a celestial dance frozen in time. Beyond the glass, Coruscant's skyline stretched endlessly, its towering spires resembling trees of a vast, mechanical forest, their peaks piercing the heavens.

The walls, adorned with smooth golden inlays, glowed softly, reflecting the room's luminous tranquility. They stood as silent sentinels, their surfaces imbued with the strength and wisdom of countless generations of Jedi. Around the circle, benches provided a place to observe the lessons.

The intricate patterns etched into the floor beneath Edric were reminiscent of the ripples in a still pond, converging towards the center where the essence of the Force seemed to gather and pulse.

My Initiate Trials, Edric recognized where he was. At twelve years old, he was smaller than most of his peers, his sun-kissed curls falling into his vision as he adjusted his stance. It was like watching a holo of a memory. Around him, the group of Jedi Masters observed the Initiate Trials with keen interest, their faces inscrutable to the boy.

Across from him stood his sparring partner, a larger and more confident Zabrak boy named Grux. The duel began, and Edric's yellow training lightsaber hummed to life. He moved swiftly, his feet barely touching the ground, but his strikes lacked the precision and power that Grux exhibited effortlessly. Every parry and counterattack from his opponent sent Edric reeling back, struggling to maintain his footing. He was forced onto the defensive, backing up after each strike, his breath coming in short, determined bursts.

Despite the onslaught, Edric refused to give up. His eyes narrowed as he began to discern the pattern in Grux's movements. He silently recited Grux's attacks in his head, trying to tap into the Force for a hint of what might come next. With each swing and block, Edric felt a growing awareness of his opponent's rhythm.

In a critical moment, as Grux aimed a finishing blow, Edric dodged to the right and lunged forward, attempting to stab at the Zabrak. But Grux adjusted his stance with lightning speed, deflecting Edric's lightsaber away. Desperation surged through Edric as he launched a flurry of counterattacks, each one parried with ease by Grux. Sweat dripped down Edric's face, his muscles straining with every movement, yet it was not enough to turn the tide.

With a swift, decisive strike, Grux landed a blow that sent Edric's lightsaber clattering to the ground. The match was over. Edric had lost. He stood there, chest heaving, his cheeks burning with the sting of defeat.

The scene shifted to Edric's next test, one that involved his connection to the Force—an area where he often struggled even in the present. The trial required Edric to lift several large stones using the Force and arrange them in a specific pattern. He closed his eyes and reached out with his mind. The stones trembled slightly but remained grounded. He furrowed his brow, concentrating harder. One stone finally lifted, wobbling unsteadily in the air, but as he tried to move another, the first fell with a heavy thud.

Edric glanced at the Masters. Their expressions were kind but clearly disappointed. The trials continued, and at the end of the day, Edric stood among his peers, waiting for the Masters to select their new Padawans.

One by one, they made their choices. Each name called that wasn't his was like a dagger to Edric's heart, his hope dwindling with every passing moment. As the last Master left the room with their new Padawan, Edric was left standing there with three other younglings. He wasn't chosen. He clenched his fists and rushed out of the room.

Determined not to let his failure define him, Edric headed to one of the empty sparring rooms. He needed to train, to prove his worth as a Jedi. The room was a silent expanse, its walls echoing with the faint hum of inactive training droids. Edric activated one, and its mechanical eyes glowed to life. He began to spar, pushing himself to the edge of his abilities.

Hours passed, and Edric's movements grew slower, his strikes weaker. Sweat drenched his robes, and his muscles screamed in protest. Still, he refused to stop, his resolve as unyielding as his grip on his lightsaber. His breath came in ragged gasps, but he kept going, the sound of his determination resonating with each clash of his blade.

Finally, exhaustion claimed him. Edric slumped to the floor, his lightsaber slipping from his grasp. He closed his eyes, his chest heaving as he tried to catch his breath.

"Impressive," a calm voice spoke from the doorway.

Edric's eyes snapped open. He looked up to see a figure framed by the soft glow of the hallway lights. It was a Jedi Master he didn't recognize, with long dark hair cascading over his shoulders and a neatly trimmed beard. The man's green irises held a warmth that instantly put Edric at ease. The boy scrambled to his feet, bowing respectfully, his movements still shaky from exertion.

"Master," he said, his voice hoarse and dry.

"I am Master Kael Asher," the figure introduced himself, stepping into the room. "I've been observing you, Edric Kane. Your work ethic is admirable, and your determination is unwavering."

Edric blinked in surprise, not expecting such praise. "Thank you, Master Asher," he replied, his heart now pounding for a different reason—hope.

Master Asher nodded. "It's clear you have faced challenges today, but it's how you respond to them that truly matters. I see potential in you, Edric, and I would like to offer you the opportunity to be my Padawan."

Edric's eyes widened, and a broad smile spread across his face, illuminating the room with his joy. "Really? You mean it?" he asked, hardly daring to believe his ears, his excitement bubbling over.

Master Asher smiled back, a gentle curve that softened his features. "Yes, Edric. We will learn from each other and grow together. How does that sound?"

Overwhelmed with happiness, Edric bowed deeply, his heart soaring. "Thank you, Master Asher. I won't let you down," he promised, determination flaring brightly within him like a rekindled flame.

Master Asher ruffled Edric's fuzzy curls. "I believe you, Edric. We will begin your training tomorrow. For now, go take a shower and get some well-earned rest."

As Edric left the room, he looked back at Master Asher. His figure was almost glowing from the golden sunlight shining through the tall windows. I finally have a Master, he thought.


The scene disappeared into darkness, and Edric woke suddenly. His master was still floating in the bacta and his own eyes still burnt with exhaustion. The Force reminded him of their first meeting, one that gave him so much hope. Master Asher believed in him when nobody else did and he could see his potential that even Edric often doubted was even there.

"Sir," a voice said from his right. He looked up. It was Lokk.

"Lokk? What are you doing here?" Edric asked, glad to see a familiar face. Even if it was a face he saw every corner of the whole ship on other troopers.

"They sent me down for a checkup, but seems like the refugees patched me up well. I didn't want to disturb you, sorry," Lokk said, but Edric shook his head.

"It's okay. I was just—," he trailed off as his gaze found Master Asher again.

"We are supposed to be exiting hyperspace any minute now," Lokk broke the silence.

Edric sighed, standing up and stretching his stiff muscles. The chair creaked as he pushed it back, and he winced at the sharp twinge in his lower back. He had been probably sitting for hours, lost in his meditation or at least an attempt of one. He really didn't look forward to give his report to the Council. "Thanks for letting me know, Lokk."

Lokk nodded, glancing at Master Asher in the tank. "How's he doing?"

"The droid says it's uncertain if he'll ever wake up. He's... stable, for now. I just wish there was more I could do," Edric replied and rubbed his eyes.

Lokk just grunted in response and the two of them shared a moment of silence. Not just for Master Asher, but for all other clone troopers who have been lost. They were expandable for the politicians, which somehow was no surprise to the boy, but it seemed to be the same way with the Jedi Council. The thought made him shiver. He understood better why his master was questioning the timing of the efforts on Tarnos. The Council's decisions often seemed detached, as if they were viewing the galaxy through a pane of frosted glass. He wondered if they truly grasped the extent of the suffering on the front lines, and if they felt the weight of each life lost as he did.

"I'm sorry about your brothers," Edric whispered to the clone beside him. Lokk glanced back at him and nodded.

"Thank you, Sir."

"Please, just call me Edric."

Lokk nodded again and in the same moment Edric could feel the slight pull of G-forces indicating they had just exited hyperspace.

"I guess we're back home," Lokk noted.


Aboard his Jedi Starfighter, Edric descended through the dense, amber-tinted clouds of Coruscant's atmosphere. The sprawling cityscape emerged below, a maze of towering spires and bustling air traffic. His thoughts swirled similarly to the chaotic flight patterns of traffic around him, while he was trying to construct his report on the mission. He couldn't anticipate many of the questions that might come his way, and if he was truly honest with himself, he just wanted to get it over with.

The sleek starfighter glided into the Jedi Temple docks, its landing gear touching down with a gentle thud. Edric powered down the ship, the hum of its engines fading into silence. His astromech beeped a quick farewell and Edric disembarked, his boots making a soft thump against the durasteel floor.

A young Togruta girl approached him immediately. She was no older than ten, her montrals still short, and her eyes wide with a mix of awe and concern.

"Padawan Kane," she said, her voice small but clear. "The High Council is expecting you."

Edric managed a tired smile, nodding to the youngling. "Thank you," he replied, his voice carrying a weariness he couldn't mask. The girl nodded back, her expression serious as she scampered away.

Edric sniffed the air and his own stench tingled his nose. An unpleasant mix of sweat and dirt, not exactly a fresh odor like the incenses burning around the Temple. He had to admit he was less than presentable, but since they were expecting him already, he had no time to do anything about it.

He headed towards the Council chamber, his mind racing to formulate his report with as much detail as possible. He walked through the grand halls of the Jedi Temple, his footsteps echoing against the marble floors. The serene environment, usually a place of solace, felt strangely alien to him now. The tall columns and soft lighting did little to ease the tension coiled within him.

He glanced around at the familiar sights—the quiet meditation alcoves, the statues of revered Jedi , despite the familiarity, it didn't feel like he had returned home. The Temple's tranquil ambiance felt like a facade, a mask hiding something fractured beneath. The air seemed thicker, the light dimmer, as if the very walls whispered of unspoken doubts. Perhaps it was just a lag from the battlefield, or perhaps it was something deeper, a growing dissonance within him.

The grand doors of the Council chamber loomed ahead. They parted smoothly, revealing the circular room within. Only a few Masters were present: Yoda, Windu, and Plo Koon. Two others, Obi-Wan Kenobi and Ki-Adi-Mundi, were present as holograms, their forms flickering with static. The rest were likely on their missions across the galaxy.

Edric stepped into the center of the chamber, bowing respectfully. He could feel sweat trickling down on his temples. He wished he took that shower instead.

"Welcome, Padawan Kane," Mace Windu's deep voice resonated through the chamber. "Please tell us what happened on Tarnos."

"Yes, Master," Edric said. He swallowed hard, his throat dry. He began to recount the mission in detail—the initial engagement, the overwhelming droid forces, the evacuation of the refugees, and the tragic fall of his Master. As he spoke, he could feel the Council's gaze upon him, their eyes dissecting every word, every subtle movement. Their scrutiny felt like a hundred sharp needles, pricking at his composure. He shifted his stance, trying to steady his voice, but the sensation of being under a microscope made his skin crawl. He remembered how much of an open book he was to Master Asher, but he hoped at least these masters couldn't completely see through him and sense his recent doubts.

When he mentioned their desperate evacuation of the refugees, Plo Koon leaned forward slightly. "You engaged the droids head-on while evacuating the refugees. Was there no other option, Padawan?"

Edric hesitated, recalling the chaos. "It was the only way to buy time, Master Koon. The droids would have slaughtered the refugees in the caves otherwise."

Mace Windu's eyes narrowed. "And what of the clone troopers who were with you? Were they not at unnecessary risk due to your decision to confront the enemy directly after the retreat order was given?"

Edric felt a flames licking at his ribs on the inside. "The clones knew the risks, Master Windu. We all did. They fought bravely to protect innocent lives. I couldn't just stand by and let those people die."

Yoda's ears twitched slightly, and he exchanged a glance with Windu. "Difficult choices, made in war, they often are. But mindful, always, of the greater picture, a Jedi must be."

Edric nodded and he couldn't prevent himself letting out a frustrated sigh. The Masters exchanged looks, their expressions unreadable to the boy. Obi-Wan Kenobi's hologram flickered, and he spoke up.

"Padawan Kane, you were indeed very brave. But bravery must be tempered with wisdom. Do you believe your actions were in line with the Jedi Code?"

Edric looked at the master. Was he in trouble? "I... I did what I thought was right, Master Kenobi. I followed my instincts, and I used the Force to guide me."

"Thank you, Padawan Kane," Yoda said ending the discussion, his voice gentle but firm. "Strong, you have been. Good job, you did."

As they bid farewell to Edric, he felt a surge of unresolved questions bubble to the surface. He couldn't leave without understanding why.

"Masters," he began, his voice tinged with the urgency of unspoken frustrations. "My master, Kael Asher, mentioned in our briefing that the Tarnosians had asked for help for years. Why were their pleas ignored until it was too late?"

Yoda's ears twitched slightly, and he exchanged a glance with Windu. "Many worlds, in need of aid. Priorities, we must set."

Mace Windu nodded in agreement. "Resources are stretched thin, Padawan. We cannot be everywhere at once."

Edric's hands clenched at his sides. "But Master Asher believed—"

"Master Asher's insights are valued," Plo Koon interjected, his voice a calming presence. "But sometimes, events unfold beyond our control. We share in your pain that your master's injury caused."

The explanations felt hollow. Edric bowed his head, acknowledging their words. He turned and left he Council chamber. He stopped briefly to look out of the window at Coruscant. The sun almost set and painted the mechanical surface in gold. When he was only a youngling, he would sneak out at night to watch the busy traffic and stars. The view usually helped calm his mind, but not this time.

Just as he was about to leave for his quarters, Yoda's voice stopped him. "Sense your doubts, I do, Padawan Kane. Troubled, you are."

Edric hesitated, then turned back to face the diminutive Master. "I... I just don't understand, Master Yoda. We are supposed to be peacekeepers, protectors. But it feels like we're always too late. Always reacting, never preventing."

Yoda's eyes softened, and he gave a slow nod. "Complex, the galaxy is. Always clear, our path is not. Trust in the Force, you must. Guide us, it will."

Edric nodded, but the words did little to quell the storm inside him. He bowed to the Grand Master and walked away, each step echoing his doubts and the widening chasm between him and the Order he had once believed in so fervently.

He reached his quarters, a simple room that had been his home for years, and keyed in the access code. The room was sparsely furnished: a small bed, a desk cluttered with datapads, and a wardrobe. He crossed to the refresher unit, his reflection catching his eye in the mirror above the sink. He paused, staring at the image before him. The boy who had originally left for war years ago was gone. In his place stood a young man, his body transformed by the rigors of combat and training.

Edric stripped off his dirty and torn tunic, the fabric falling to the floor in a heap. His eyes traced the contours of his reflection, noting the muscle definition that had replaced the soft lines of youth. His chest and arms were broader, his frame more imposing. Dark body hair now covered his chest and arms, a stark contrast to the smooth skin he remembered. He leaned closer, the reflection of his beard and tousled curls adding to the transformation.

He ran a hand over his beard, feeling the hairs beneath his fingers. It felt like looking at a stranger. He remembered being a small child, wide-eyed and full of hope, dreaming of adventure and heroism. Now, his eyes held the weight of battles fought and lives lost, a depth of sorrow and doubt that hadn't been there before. The transition from innocence to experience had carved lines of tension and worry into his features.

The shower's spray was a cascade of warmth, enveloping him in a comforting embrace. He closed his eyes, letting the water wash away the grime and blood of battle, hoping it could cleanse the turmoil within as well. The steam curled around him, shrouding the room in a hazy mist. He leaned against the cool tiles, the water cascading down his back like a soothing waterfall, washing away the physical remnants of war but doing little to ease the ache in his heart.

The face of his master floated to the forefront of his mind. Kael had been more than a mentor; he had been a father figure, a guiding light in the chaos of war. Seeing him in that bacta tank, so vulnerable and still, had shaken Edric to his core. He had always believed in the wisdom of the Jedi Council, but now, those beliefs were fraying at the edges. The actions of the Order seemed increasingly disconnected from the reality of the galaxy's suffering.

Stepping out of the shower, he dried himself and dressed in fresh navy blue tunics, the fabric soft and clean against his skin, and sat on the edge of his bed. His thoughts drifted to the refugees on Tarnos, to the lives he had helped save and those he couldn't. As he lay back, staring at the ceiling, the shadows seemed to stretch longer, the light dimmer. Edric's eyelids grew heavy, the weight of the day's events pulling him towards unconsciousness. He let out a deep, shuddering breath, his body sinking into the mattress like a stone into a still pond. He closed his eyes, finally surrendering to the embrace of sleep.