I don't own anything. Disney and Lucasfilm own Star Wars. Anything else you recognize belongs to the owners of its own franchise.

A/N This is one of those stories I wrote up on a whim, and have no plans whatsoever. Updates will be inconsistent as I will write this story only when my creativity flares up or I get an idea or something. that means you could get three chapters a week or one chapter in six months, no guarantee. So do give any and all suggestions you can think of as there is a VERY high chance it will make it into the story.

Choices Choices

54 BBY

It didn't take long for me to make up my mind—if I wanted a master, it had to be Dooku.

The other choices? Not an option.

Mace Windu? No chance. Too rigid, too by-the-book, too damn stubborn. The guy followed the Jedi Code like it was the word of God, and that just didn't mesh with my plans. I had every intention of using my meta-knowledge to mess with galactic events, power myself up, and ensure a few key players didn't meet their canon fates. No way Windu would let me run around doing whatever the hell I wanted. He'd be breathing down my neck every second, telling me why my methods were dangerous or unbecoming of a Jedi or some other holier-than-thou bullshit.

Yoda? As much as I respected the little green legend, he was an automatic no. The guy was wise, sure, but training under him meant I'd be stuck on Coruscant for years, meditating while the rest of the galaxy burned. I wasn't about to waste my time sitting in a Temple learning about the mysteries of the Force while the Sith were out there playing 4D chess with the Republic. I needed freedom—real freedom. The kind that would let me stick my hands deep into the timeline and rearrange some furniture.

That left Dooku. And honestly? I should've locked in on him from the start.

Dooku wasn't just a master swordsman and a political powerhouse—he was a man of action. He had no patience for stagnation, no tolerance for the Jedi Council's red tape, and he sure as hell wouldn't keep me leashed like the others. He valued intelligence, initiative, and the ability to think for oneself—something I had in spades. If I played my cards right, I could make myself exactly the kind of apprentice he'd want. Not to mention, he's rich. Like absurdly rich. Like 'I can buy the air you breathe' type rich.

More importantly, Dooku had the connections and influence I needed to actually do shit. Under him, I wouldn't be sidelined into meaningless Jedi missions; I'd be front and center in the real action. The guy was a highborn aristocrat, a warrior, and an idealist—someone who actually gave a damn about galactic affairs, even if his views clashed with the Council. He was my best bet for getting involved in key events without having a master breathing down my neck every time I did something unconventional.

And if I played things right, I could do some serious damage control for the timeline.

For starters, I could push to be knighted by 50 BBY. That would leave the Padawan slot open for Komari Vosa, meaning she'd still get trained under Dooku. And if I really played my hand well, I could prevent her from falling into the Bando Gora's hands. I had no intention of letting her spiral into a crazed Dark Jedi cult leader—no way in hell was I letting that disaster happen. If I could mentor her, even indirectly, she might actually make it as a proper Jedi.

But the biggest reason? The Stark Hyperspace War.

This was my golden ticket. A major galactic conflict, right on the horizon, and the perfect chance to make a name for myself. The war would be a proving ground—not just for my skills, but for my ability to manipulate events without drawing unwanted attention. If I could influence key battles, change a few outcomes, and rack up some battlefield merit, I'd be on the fast track to knighthood. And with a war this high-profile, no one could argue against it.

Dooku was the key to everything I wanted—power, experience, and most importantly, the freedom to shape the galaxy my way. Fix up the galaxy and prepare it for the threats to come. Namely the Vong, Abeloth etc.

It had been two months since Dooku took me in as his Padawan.

Two months of grueling, mind-numbing, soul-crushing research.

Do you want to know the very first task he assigned me? Was it lightsaber training? Dueling practice? Learning some cool, arcane Force technique that would set me apart from my peers?

No.

It was a thesis.

On what, you ask? Everything.

Dooku had me write an exhaustive dissertation on my understanding of all seven lightsaber forms, detailing which ones I preferred and exactly why. And just when I thought it couldn't get any worse, he threw in two more assignments—one, a comprehensive report on the most notable historical users of each form, and two, a meticulous breakdown of my "reckless" usage of Force Phase and Teleportation during the initiate trials, explaining every possible way I could have screwed up and died.

Oh, and did I mention? I wasn't allowed to touch my lightsaber until all my reports were finished.

So, while other Padawans were sparring, training, and generally enjoying their new roles as apprentices, I was buried in the Jedi Archives, pouring over ancient texts, holorecords, and battle reports like some overworked university student cramming for finals.

Truly, Dooku was Yoda's disciple.

To his credit, I did learn a lot—probably more than I ever would have through standard training. The intricacies of Makashi's blade-work, the defensive perfection of Soresu, the sheer brutality of Djem So. I developed a deep appreciation for the thought process behind each form, the way they complemented different fighting styles, and the masters who wielded them.

But still, two months. Two months of nothing but research.

At least I had some time to look into Battle Meditation. My verdict? Really. Damn. Difficult.

The concept made sense—broadly speaking, it was an AOE version of Force Persuasion, a way to inspire allies and demoralize enemies through sheer willpower. But actually doing it? Different story. The level of focus, control, and sheer depth of connection with the Force required was insane. I wasn't going to pull that off anytime soon. Maybe in a few years, if I dedicated myself to it. More likely, it'd take a decade before I could use it properly in combat.

But that didn't mean I couldn't take something from it.

I started experimenting, trying to break down the principles behind it. I figured out that, in an oversimplified way, Battle Meditation was basically Force Persuasion but on a massive scale—an area-of-effect version of mind influence. I obviously couldn't do the real thing, but I found that if I tweaked the concept slightly, I could create a localized aura of intimidation. A subtle but distinct pressure that unsettled those around me.

It wasn't much. Weak and limited in range. Absolutely useless against trained Jedi or Sith. But against my fellow younglings and Padawans?

Yeah. It worked just fine.

And because my geeky anime-loving side just couldn't resist, I went ahead and called it Dragon Aura.

For now, though, I had more immediate concerns—like my lightsaber.

That brings us to today.

I was currently seated in a shuttle, descending towards Ilum alongside a group of older Padawans—most of them around eleven or twelve.

I should've been excited. This was my first real step into the traditions of the Jedi—building my first lightsaber. This was the moment I had been waiting for since the second I arrived in this world.

And yet, my mood was already soured.

Because, of course, a few of the older kids just had to start some shit.

They probably thought I was easy pickings—smaller, younger, and completely new to the Padawan ranks. So naturally, a couple of them started throwing jabs. Nothing too bad—just the typical condescending remarks, questioning whether I was strong enough to be here, wondering if I needed someone to hold my hand while looking for my kyber crystal.

I let it slide the first few times.

Then one of them made a comment about me being an orphan, and that was when I decided I had better things to do than let these little idiots ruin my mood. They needed a lesson in humility.

So I activated Dragon Aura.

It was subtle. Not even a proper Force ability—just a weak, experimental trick. But it didn't have to be strong. The pressure I projected was just barely noticeable. Just enough to unsettle the senses, to trigger that deep, primal instinct that something was off.

And against a bunch of kids who weren't expecting it?

Oh, it was more than enough.

Within seconds, the teasing stopped. A few of them glanced around, shifting uncomfortably in their seats, frowning like they'd suddenly stepped into a room that felt wrong. One of them, the main instigator, actually swallowed hard and avoided looking in my direction entirely.

Yeah. That's what I thought.

I didn't smirk. Didn't acknowledge it. Just kept my face blank, arms crossed, as if I hadn't just flexed my newly-made Force trick on a bunch of preteens.

By the time the shuttle touched down, no one had anything else to say.

Stepping onto Ilum was… something else.

I had seen it in the Clone Wars episodes. I had read about it in the archives, seen pictures on google. But nothing really prepared me for the feeling of being here in person.

The moment I set foot on the icy terrain, I felt it—the hum of the Force, pulsing beneath the surface of the world.

Ilum was alive in the Force. The air was crisp, filled with an almost tangible energy, like the whole planet was watching, waiting, whispering in the background. The cold bit at my skin, but the Force itself felt warm. I could feel the warm energies washing over me, flowing through me.

The Jedi leading our group—an older Knight whose name I didn't bother remembering—ushered us toward the entrance of the crystal cave.

"This is your trial," he said, his voice carrying over the howling winds. "Inside, you will find the kyber crystal that calls to you. Trust in the Force to guide your path."

The cave entrance loomed ahead, dark and mysterious. I felt the shift in the air as the other Padawans steeled themselves, their excitement and nerves mixing in the Force like static electricity.

This was it.

This was the moment where I would take my first step toward wielding a real weapon—my weapon.

I took a deep breath, exhaled, and stepped forward, ready to claim my crystal.

The Jedi leading the gathering divided us into small groups of ten, each assigned to a Knight who would ensure we didn't get lost—or at least, that was the intent. The caverns of Ilum stretched out before us, crystalline walls shimmering with ethereal beauty. The air was thick with the Force, alive with whispers just beneath the threshold of hearing.

Each step forward felt like peeling back the layers of reality. I could sense it all—the pulsing energies of kyber crystals embedded in the walls, the shifting emotions of my fellow Padawans as they wandered deeper, searching for their destined gems. Some found them almost immediately. I watched as one after another reached out, drawn to a particular crystal, their faces alight with wonder.

Most of them took blue. A few, green.

But me?

Nothing.

I didn't feel any particular pull. No whisper calling my name, no ethereal guidance nudging me toward a certain path.

So instead, I took a moment to appreciate the scenery.

The caverns were breathtaking. Every surface gleamed with icy perfection, ancient and sacred, like a cathedral sculpted by time and the Force itself. Crystals jutted from the walls and ceiling, reflecting the dim light in a prismatic display of blues, purples, and greens. The stillness, the quiet power of this place—it was mesmerizing.

Then I felt it.

A shift in the Force.

Not a subtle one. Not a soft whisper or a gentle tug.

This was a pull.

A deep, irresistible current, like an ocean tide suddenly receding before a tsunami.

I barely had time to think. My feet moved on their own, following the flow without hesitation.

I didn't even glance back as I broke away from my group.

Something ahead was pulling the Force into itself, disrupting the natural harmony of the cave. It wasn't normal, wasn't part of the serene stillness that defined this sacred place. This was something else.

Something wrong.

The air grew colder with each step.

Not just physically—I could feel it in the Force.

A wrongness. A void where warmth should have been.

Deeper and deeper I went, winding through narrow passages, the luminous crystals growing sparse. Shadows stretched long, swallowing the light. The temperature plummeted, my breath curling into mist.

And then—

I turned a corner.

And stopped.

There, standing in the center of a chamber wreathed in shadow, was a figure.

Clad in pitch-black armor, every inch etched with intricate dragon motifs and symbols—symbols I recognized.

From Earth.

That realization hit me like a freight train, but I had no time to process it.

Because the figure turned.

And I felt it.

A tsunami of the Dark Side.

It wasn't just powerful. It was overpowering.

A suffocating abyss of cold fury, pressing down on me from all sides. I could barely breathe, the sheer pressure crushing. It wasn't like the stories, where encountering the Dark Side was just some creepy feeling or an ominous shiver. No. This was like being pulled into an arctic riptide, my body locked in place, my mind drowning in the sheer weight of his presence.

My thoughts stopped.

Instinct screamed at me to run. Every cell in my body burned with primal terror.

This was wrong.

This was death.

No.

I clenched my fists, forcing my body to move, to fight back.

I couldn't die here.

I refused to die here.

Desperately, I reached for the warmth of the Force inside me, pulling it in, trying to channel it—anything to push back against the crushing darkness. The light surged in response, flickering, struggling to keep the void at bay.

The Sith tilted his head slightly, as if amused by my resistance.

I could see his mask now—featureless save for two hollow eye sockets, as if the armor itself had been carved from the abyss.

And within those sockets—

I saw them.

Golden eyes.

Not the normal Sith kind. Not the burning sulfuric glow of a fallen Jedi.

No. These were draconic.

Blood-red irises with reptilian slits, gleaming like molten gold.

My stomach dropped.

Those weren't human eyes.

They weren't the eyes of a Sith.

They weren't even the eyes of a mortal.

This wasn't just some fallen Jedi who had turned to the Dark Side.

This was something else.

Something far worse.

The longer I stared, the deeper the void pulled me in, suffocating, paralyzing—

Then the pressure lessened.

The Sith removed his mask.

And my world shattered.

Because the face beneath that obsidian helm…

Was mine.

Older. Sharper. More defined.

But undeniably me.

I staggered back. My body wasn't listening to me anymore, every nerve screaming in shock, every thought fracturing.

This isn't possible.

This isn't real. But the crushing power, this suffocating feeling…

But the golden-eyed thing wearing my face just stared back at me, expression unreadable.

The darkness pulsed again, a deep, suffocating wave rolling off him like a living entity.

I was shaking. My breath came in ragged gasps. The Force around me shuddered.

And then, in a voice that sent ice down my spine,

He spoke.

"Hello, me."

The Choice

I didn't know what to say. What could I say?

My mind was still reeling, spinning wildly between shock, terror, and sheer, unfiltered disbelief.

So, I mumbled the first burning question that managed to claw its way out of my throat.

"How?!"

The monster wearing my face—because that's what he was, a monster—grinned. No, he sneered, his lips pulling back to reveal gleaming white teeth that looked just a little too sharp. Fangs. They were fangs.

"How?" He mocked, rolling the word around his mouth like a joke only he understood. Then, with a smirk so familiar it made my skin crawl, he continued, "You know how. You've already considered the possibility. Even before we were brought here."

I tried to shake my head, to deny it, to shove the thought away before it could fully form. "What are you talking abou—"

And then I remembered.

It hit me like a speeder crash.

The Altar.

The Sith ritual under the Jedi Temple.

I felt the blood drain from my face. My stomach plummeted into freefall.

"No…" I whispered, horror curling around my words like a death grip.

His grin widened, stretching almost unnaturally. "Yes."

The chamber suddenly felt smaller. The shadows pressed in tighter.

"The ritual by the Banites to obscure the sight of the Jedi," he continued, voice dripping with amusement. "Just waiting there, untouched, lying in wait beneath the Temple for centuries. A few modifications and…"

I took a step back, my boots scraping against the frozen stone. My hands clenched into fists, nails digging into my palms.

"You didn't!"

His laugh was dark. Deep and echoing, like the universe itself was in on the joke.

"I did."

A pit formed in my gut, heavy and gnawing. I knew what was coming next.

I had thought about it before.

Back on Earth.

In passing, as a theoretical exercise, as an idea.

Something stupid. Something terrifying. Something that should have never been real.

A Sith ritual. A modified Sith ritual.

Vitiate's ritual.

The one that stripped planets bare. That devoured all life in an instant.

But this wasn't just some insignificant world.

This was Coruscant.

Three trillion people.

The beating heart of the galaxy.

And worse than that—

The strongest Force-sensitives in the Republic.

My throat went dry. "You'd be—"

"A God!" he finished, his voice filled with something indescribable. "An unstoppable GOD!"

His eyes burned with raw, unholy power. A bottomless hunger. A madness beyond reason.

"Abeloth and the Vong?" He scoffed. "Even the Celestials bow to ME!"

The laughter that followed was thunderous. It shook the chamber, the air itself trembling from the sheer weight of his presence.

I couldn't move. I could barely think.

The Force around me howled.

Then, suddenly, the laughter stopped.

And he was staring at me again, those unnatural golden eyes gleaming like molten fire.

"And you could be, too."

His voice was smooth now, almost gentle. A whisper of temptation.

"You could be a god like me. Unstoppable. Untouchable. Ruler of all that is. Death itself, walking the universe…"

He smirked and took a step forward, extending a gloved hand toward me. Beckoning.

"All you gotta do… is take my hand."

I stared at it.

At him.

At me.

I could feel it.

The Dark Side.

The sheer power.

It was a storm, a vortex, a maelstrom of limitless potential. It called to me. Sang to me. Whispers of forbidden knowledge, of dominion, of absolute, unmatched power tore at the edges of my mind.

A god.

I could be a god.

I felt my fingers twitch.

A war raged inside me, the Dark Side howling with delight, anticipation crackling in the air like a storm about to break.

I could do anything.

No Jedi Council to hold me back.

No Sith Lords to betray me.

I could reshape the galaxy with my own hands.

No more rules. No more limits.

I reached forward.

My hand met his.

His grin widened, his eyes gleaming in triumph. "Well done. You've chosen well."

I tightened my grip.

Then I yanked him forward.

And slammed my forehead into his nose.

A crack echoed through the cavern.

His head snapped back, but I didn't stop holding his hand.

The shadows trembled. The Dark Side hissed.

I stood firm, locking eyes with the abomination before me.

"No."

His face twisted, the sneer dropping as confusion flickered through those draconic golden eyes. "What?"

I took a slow, deliberate step forward, hands clenched into fists. "No. I refuse."

The temperature in the chamber plummeted instantly, a blast of frozen air swirling around us like a dying breath from something ancient and malevolent. The shadows shuddered.

His eyes narrowed, fury crackling beneath the surface. "You don't understand," he hissed, his voice like a blade of ice pressed against my throat. "This is your destiny! This is our destiny!"

I shook my head. Slowly. Calmly.

"You think you're me," I murmured, my voice barely above a whisper. "But you're not."

His lips curled back, revealing fangs—inhuman, predatory, dripping with unnatural malice. "I am you!" he snarled.

I took another step forward, my pulse steady, the warmth of the Force rising within me like the first rays of dawn. "No," I repeated, voice unwavering.

"You're everything I refuse to be."

The Dark Side around him coiled and seethed, reacting to his fury, but I didn't stop.

I wouldn't stop.

I couldn't stop.

I straightened, shoulders squaring, as the words left my mouth like thunder, my voice carrying across the cavern like a pronouncement of judgment.

"You are everything I abhor, everything I hate."

My steps were slow, measured, but my resolve burned brighter than the cold pressing down on me.

"An idiot. A fool. A disgrace. Not just to our family, not just to the Force—but to everything I am and everything I will be!" 'And a really stupid moron'

The Dark Side surged, screaming in rage.

And I met it, with Light.

I pulled in every bit of warmth, every flicker of golden power from the Force, letting it flood my veins like a tsunami of fire. The frigid, suffocating aura pressing down on me faltered.

I could feel it—the Light rising.

A wildfire, a supernova, igniting inside me.

"We do not rule through power," I declared, and the walls trembled. "We guide with wisdom." 'and subtle manipulation'

"We do not sacrifice innocents for strength. We save them."

The very stone beneath our feet cracked.

"Honor. Integrity. Courage. Freedom. Loyalty." '… and a minor dose of tomfoolery'

Each word rang out, hammering into the darkness like a drumbeat of war. Not the last bit though. That was just in my head.

"These are the words that define MY existence!"

His glare turned murderous, the Dark writhing in fury. The cavern itself began to shake, but I pressed on.

"Not some nebulous, empty godhood built atop the graves of trillions."

A hush fell over the chamber.

Silence.

For a split second, the darkness hesitated.

Then I saw it—the flicker.

The briefest hint of doubt in his golden-red eyes.

He knew.

Deep down, buried beneath all that madness and power, he knew.

He was no god.

He was no unstoppable force.

He was a mistake.

A nightmare born from arrogance, greed, and twisted ambition.

Something I refused to become.

I inhaled deeply. The Force trembled, waiting.

Then I spoke the final words, the verdict.

"You do not understand that."

The Light inside me reached its crescendo.

My heartbeat matched its rhythm. My soul burned with it.

And with all the weight of the Force behind my words, I finished.

"That is why you are not me."

The air around us roared.

The cavern walls split.

My eyes burned like twin suns.

He took a step back, I didn't let go of his hand. For the first time, I saw something else in his gaze—

Fear.

I raised my hand.

The Force surged through me—hot, blinding, unstoppable. A supernova of light condensed into the palm of my hand, a power magnified by Ilum itself.

And then—

"So… BURN!"

I pushed.

The Light erupted.

It wasn't just a blast. It was a detonation. A star being born.

The golden wave of pure, unfiltered energy slammed into him like a thousand suns exploding at once. It engulfed him, tearing into the darkness, ripping through every corrupted molecule of his existence.

He screamed.

A horrific, inhuman sound.

The Dark Side howled, thrashing in agony as it was consumed.

The cavern ceiling cracked, pillars of ice collapsing as the sheer force of the blast sent shockwaves rippling outward.

I could feel it—

His power breaking.

His essence unraveling.

He tried to resist, but there was no resisting the Light.

I was done fighting shadows.

I took a final step forward, pressing my other palm against his chest.

And I let go.

The Light surged, a final, burning crescendo—

And then he was gone.

A howl of defiance echoed through the cavern, fading into nothing.

The darkness shattered.

And I stood there, breath heavy, heart pounding—

Victorious.

Then I promptly collapsed to my knees, chest heaving, lungs burning as I gasped for breath. My body felt like I had just waged war against a black hole and barely come out the other side. Every muscle screamed, the aftermath of channeling so much raw power through my very being.

And yet—

Something called to me.

A song, distant yet impossibly close. A whisper and a roar all at once.

I lifted my head, eyes bleary, and there—

It waited.

A crystal.

Not just any crystal.

It sat nestled in a bed of ice and stone, pulsing softly like a living thing. Its surface was a deep, rich amethyst, but more than that—it moved.

Swirling, dancing shapes flowed within the crystal's depths, forming intricate, ethereal patterns, shifting like mist over a midnight ocean. Shadows and light wove together, intertwining in a mesmerizing, endless spiral, never the same from one moment to the next.

It was beautiful. Breathtaking.

I reached for it, hand trembling—not from fear, not from exhaustion, but from awe.

The moment my fingers brushed against its surface, a gentle hum vibrated through me. Not sound. Feeling.

A connection.

A recognition.

It knew me.

The warmth of the Force surged through the crystal, wrapping around me like a familiar embrace, soothing the raw edges of my soul.

I exhaled, feeling its presence settle deep in my chest, in my bones, in the very core of my being.

"Hello, beautiful," I muttered, voice hoarse, tired, but filled with quiet reverence.

The crystal sang.

Not words, not thoughts—emotion.

It resonated with me, a pure, deep thrumming that sent ripples through the Force, a melody only I could hear. A song of balance, of resolve, of choice.

Light and shadow. Strength and wisdom. Power, not for domination, but for purpose.

I closed my fingers around it.

The hum deepened, almost like a purr of satisfaction.

It was mine.

The moment I returned to the my group, I was met with a wall of reprimands. First from the Jedi Knight leading our group, then from the Masters overseeing the initiates, and finally, Master Dooku himself. Yeah, apparently he had been waiting in orbit in his private shuttle for me to pick out my crystal. And had come down when the knight had noticed that I had gone missing. And let me tell you—getting scolded by Dooku is an experience.

See, when most Jedi reprimand you, there's a certain measured calm to it. A disappointment that cuts deep. But Dooku? Dooku doesn't scold. He lectures. The kind of lecture that makes you want to apologize to your ancestors for ever being born. While giving you a glare that makes you feel disappointed in your very existence.

I stood there, taking it all in, pretending to be properly chastised. And I was, a little. I had, after all, nearly died.

Or rather—I should have died. But I made it out fine, so it was okay.

It wasn't until one of the other Padawans pointed at my arm that I noticed something was wrong.

Or, well, more wrong.

I glanced down and froze. My hand was burnt. I lifted my sleeve, to inspect it and saw that it wasn't just my hand, but the whole arm that was burnt. Charred, raw flesh ran from my fingers to my elbow, the skin dark and cracked. My fingers twitched, but I felt... nothing.

No pain. No sensation at all. Just an eerie, creeping numbness.

I barely had time to process before the Masters were rushing me toward the medbay, voices clipped, movements urgent.

At first, I thought it was just my arm, but as the healers ran scans, I realized just how utterly f*cked up I was.

Burn spots covered my body—places where the Light had burned through me. My muscles were damaged from the sheer strain of channeling that much Force energy. My blood pressure was unstable. Oh, and apparently, I was bleeding internally… a lot.

So, yeah. Not great.

The healers looked at me like I was a goddamn anomaly. Mostly because I was.

"How...?" one of them muttered, scanning me again. "How are you still standing?"

Good question.

"You see—" As I opened my mouth to reply, my body finally decided that enough was enough.

Darkness rushed in. My vision swam, the voices around me distorting into a dull hum. My knees buckled.

And then—nothing.

Four Days Later

I woke up floating.

For a brief moment, I thought I was back on Illum, drifting in that strange half-world between reality and vision. But then my eyes adjusted, and I realized—bacta tank.

I groaned, the sound muffled by the respirator in my mouth. My entire body felt strange. Healed, but wrong. Sore. Stiff. Like I had been pieced back together from scrap parts.

I turned my head slightly, my blurry gaze catching sight of a figure outside the tank.

Master Jocasta Nu.

She stood there, arms crossed, waiting. The moment she noticed me stir, she pressed a few buttons on the panel beside the tank. Within moments, droids were draining the fluid, removing my breathing apparatus, and helping me stumble back to the world of the living.

I sat on the edge of the medical cot, rubbing my temples as my mind caught up.

"Four days," Master Nu said, her voice crisp but not unkind. "You've been in bacta for four days."

I exhaled sharply. That tracked.

Then, she reached into her robes and pulled out a small, simple wooden box.

I didn't need to ask. I already knew what was inside.

She placed it beside me. "Your crystal."

I hesitated before opening the lid.

The moment I did, a familiar hum vibrated through my very bones. My crystal rested inside, the deep amethyst glow swirling in mesmerizing, endless patterns. It was just as beautiful as the moment I had first laid eyes on it.

But then Master Nu's gaze sharpened. "Some Padawans attempted to take it while you were unconscious."

My head snapped up. "What?"

She nodded. "Curiosity got the better of them, it seems. They wanted to see what made it special."

I narrowed my eyes. "And?"

A ghost of a smirk touched her lips. "They were... repelled."

I blinked.

She continued, "Each one that attempted to touch it was lightly electrocuted. Just enough to deter them."

I stared at the crystal.

Huh.

I reached out, brushing my fingers over its surface, and instantly felt the warmth of its presence. A bond.

My crystal had rejected them.

I couldn't help but smirk. Good girl.

But before I could get too smug, Master Nu's expression turned serious again.

"The Council has called for you," she said, eyes watchful. "They want to discuss what happened on Illum."

I sighed. Of course they did.

"I suggest you rest for now," she continued. "I will take you to them tomorrow once you are discharged."

I rubbed the bridge of my nose. This was going to be a headache.

Because now, I had to come up with something.

Something that wasn't a lie, but also wasn't the whole truth.

Something to explain why I had nearly burnt myself out, why I had come back half-dead, why my body was covered in Force burns.

Something that wouldn't get me locked up in a meditative isolation chamber for a month. Who am I kidding, it'll probably be a year.

I exhaled sharply. Tomorrow's problem.

For now, I turned my attention to the datapad containing my medical records, skimming through out of sheer boredom.

At first, it was all standard—vitals, blood work, metabolic function, estimated recovery time.

But then my gaze froze on something.

Genetic Classification: Human / Arkanian Offshoot Hybrid

...What.

I reread it.

Hybrid.

I was a hybrid.

That... actually explained a few things. My slightly sharper-than-average vision. My resistance to cold. The faint, unnatural precision in my muscle control. Not to mention my left ear being pointed like an Elf.

I kept reading.

And then—I hit the jackpot.

Estimated Lifespan: 200 years

I stared at the number. Stared at it hard.

I read it again.

And then again.

And then again, just to make sure the bacta hadn't melted my brain.

Two hundred years.

I was going to live for two centuries.

And—holy shit.

I wouldn't even start aging until I hit 140.

One hundred and forty years old, and I'd still be in my goddamn prime.

I sat back, staring at the ceiling, utterly stunned.

I had just hit the genetics lottery.

The next day came, and it was time for me to face the music.

Master Nu arrived at the medbay just after dawn, finding me already dressed in my robes. My arm still felt strange—not painful, but different. Like the skin wasn't quite my own anymore. My connection to the Force felt stronger, sharper, but at the same time, there was an odd weight to it.

Master Nu said nothing as we walked. She simply led the way, her stride calm and deliberate. It was almost unnerving. No words of reassurance, no lecture. Just the steady echo of her footsteps in the halls of the Temple.

As we neared the turbolift leading to the High Council Chamber, I exhaled slowly. Alright. This was happening.

The doors slid open, and we stepped inside. The ride up was silent, the weight of the moment pressing down on me.

When the doors opened again, I was greeted by twelve figures seated in a perfect circle.

The Jedi High Council.

They watched as I entered, their expressions unreadable. Some were more familiar than others.

Master Yoda sat in his central seat, hands resting on his cane, his ancient gaze piercing. Master T'un, ever the stoic, had his arms folded across his chest. Master Rancisis regarded me with quiet curiosity, while Master Saesee Tiin's expression was far more neutral.

And then, of course, there was Dooku.

He sat with the air of a man who had already read the entire report and was now just waiting to see if I would have the audacity to lie to his face.

I took a measured step forward, bowed, and then straightened, keeping my face composed.

The silence stretched.

Then, Master T'un spoke first.

"Padawan," he began, his voice like stone grinding against stone. "Explain."

One word. Just one. But it carried the weight of the entire room.

I took a breath. I had rehearsed this in my head all night.

"With all due respect, Masters, I would first like to clarify the accusations against me."

Master Giiet raised an eyebrow. "Accusations?"

I nodded. "I assume I am being questioned due to my injuries, the abnormal circumstances of my separation from the group, and the... unusual properties of my kyber crystal."

Master Shaak Ti leaned forward slightly. "You are not wrong."

I chose my next words carefully.

"I did not intend to get separated," I started. "The moment I stepped into the caves, I... felt something. A pull in the Force, guiding me deeper. I thought it was my crystal calling to me."

"A fair assumption," Rancisis said.

I nodded. "But as I ventured further, I encountered... something else."

The room seemed to still.

Dooku's gaze sharpened.

"Define 'something else.'" Master Yaddle asked.

I hesitated. Just for a fraction of a second.

"A vision."

The word felt inadequate, but it was technically true.

Master Yoda hummed, tapping his fingers against his cane.

"Hmm. A vision, you say."

I nodded. "Yes, Master."

"Describe it," Master T'un ordered.

I swallowed. Here was the tricky part.

"A figure," I began slowly. "Wreathed in darkness. The presence was overwhelming—far beyond anything I have ever encountered. It was suffocating. Crushing. It felt like drowning in an ocean of pure malice."

Several Masters exchanged glances.

"It spoke to me," I continued. "Tried to tempt me. It offered me power. Told me that I could rule, that I could ascend beyond mortality itself."

I looked Master T'un straight in the eyes.

"I rejected it."

Master Eeth Koth leaned forward. "And what happened then?"

"I fought back," I admitted. "Not physically. Not with my lightsaber. But with the Force. With the Light."

I took a slow breath.

"I poured everything I had into pushing it back. Into banishing it. I don't know if I succeeded... or if the vision simply ended on its own. But when it was over—when the presence was gone—I found my kyber crystal."

The chamber was silent.

Then, Master Yoda finally spoke again.

"A test, the caves provide. Personal, it always is."

"An unusually intense one," Master T'un murmured.

"Indeed," Giiet agreed, rubbing his chin. "Most Padawans receive a lesson through their trials. They face an illusion, a fear, or a truth they must accept. But your experience was... far more visceral."

I didn't say anything.

Then, Yaddle frowned slightly. "And the burns?"

I hesitated.

How the hell was I supposed to explain that?

Lying was a terrible idea. The Council had a way of knowing. But telling them I had pushed so much raw Light Side energy through myself that it had literally started burning my flesh?

That was... not something that typically happened.

I decided on half-truths.

"I... overexerted myself."

Not a lie.

"I pushed too hard. The Force was flowing through me at an intensity I had never experienced before."

Still not a lie.

Master Oppo Rancisis hummed, his serpentine tail coiling slightly. "Unusual, that is."

Dooku, who had been silent until now, finally spoke.

His voice was precise, cutting.

"You are certain it was a vision?"

I turned to him, meeting his gaze.

"As certain as one can be," I replied evenly.

He studied me for a long moment.

Then, he sat back in his chair.

Master Yoda tapped his cane once.

"The truth, you have spoken," he finally said. "An ordeal, you have endured. A wound, you now carry."

He tilted his head slightly.

"Yet stronger, you have become."

I exhaled. I wasn't sure if that meant I was off the hook, but at least I wasn't getting exiled or sent to scrub floors in the archives for the next year.

Master T'un still looked skeptical, but he didn't push further.

Master Shaak Ti, however, regarded me with quiet curiosity. "Your kyber crystal is unique," she noted. "Most resonate in passive harmony. Yours appears... protective."

I shrugged. "Maybe it likes me."

A few Masters exchanged amused glances.

"Well," Master T'un finally said. "This has been... enlightening. You are dismissed, Padawan."

I bowed. "Thank you, Masters."

Then, without another word, I turned and left.

And the moment the doors closed behind me, I let out the longest exhale of my life.

That... could have gone worse.

The workshop hummed with quiet energy as I sat at my workstation, tools meticulously arranged before me. The evening air was still, heavy with the scent of metal and coolant from the fabrication machines. A single bright light illuminated my workspace, casting long shadows as I carefully laid out the components of my lightsaber.

Behind me, Master Dooku observed in silence. His presence loomed, not oppressive, but unmistakable—watching for any sign of misstep, any moment of doubt. But I had none. This was mine to forge. My weapon. My soul made manifest.

I took a deep breath, centering myself in the Force, and began.

The hilt came first.

I had already gathered the essential components: power cell, focusing lens, kyber crystal chamber, emitter shroud, and activation switch. Most of the materials I had selected before my journey to Ilum, carefully chosen for function and form.

The cylindrical frame of the hilt was smooth and pristine, its surface a polished blend of white durasteel with black internals, accented by gold filigree that wrapped around the upper casing like delicate veins of lightning.

The activation switch—a red gem-like button—was set near the emitter, embedded within a golden crest. A regal touch. A reminder of control.

I carefully slid the power cell into place, feeling the click as it locked in. A pulse of energy vibrated through the hilt, faint but steady.

Next, I adjusted the focus lens, ensuring perfect alignment. Even a slight misstep could mean anything from the lightsaber not working, to it exploding in my hand.

Then came the kyber crystal.

The deep violet hues shimmered beneath the workshop light, shifting in subtle, ethereal swirls. It was almost alive, its surface constantly shifting, refracting light like liquid amethyst. Within its depths, I saw movement—faint, swirling tendrils of energy that danced in mesmerizing spirals.

I reached out with the Force, touching the crystal not with my hands, but with my presence. Lifting it with the force and positioning it.

The reaction was immediate.

A pulse, soft at first, then stronger. It resonated with me, harmonizing, synchronizing. My breath slowed. I felt it—the crystal was bonded to me. It had chosen me as much as I had chosen it.

Carefully, I placed it into the chamber. The moment it settled into place, a soft hum vibrated through the entire saber.

The pieces were coming together.

With the crystal secured, I carefully attached the gold-plated emitter, adjusting the intricate wing-like protrusions that would form the mechanical crest of the saber.

Once everything was aligned, I tightened the final screws and secured the casing.

I sat back, exhaling. It was done.

And now—the moment of truth.

I stood, the lightsaber resting comfortably in my hand.

It felt perfect. Balanced. Mine.

Master Dooku remained behind me, silent but watchful.

With a slow breath, I centered myself in the Force. My thumb hovered over the red Synth crystal activation switch.

I pressed it.

VWMMMMMMMM!

A blinding wave of violet light erupted from the emitter, the blade extending with a smooth, controlled flare of energy. The Force resonated through the hilt, a thrumming pulse that matched the beat of my own heart.

Simultaneously, the gold-winged crossguard flared open without a sound, to shape the two additional violet energy prongs that ignited from the base of the blade—crackling, searing, alive.

The entire weapon sang.

The air vibrated around me, charged with the power of the blade. The deep hum of energy was rich, full-bodied—like a storm held in restraint.

I turned it in my hand, the blade's glow casting elongated shadows against the walls.

This was real. This was mine.

I took a step back, spinning the saber experimentally. The energy sang as it cut through the air, its weight perfect, its movements precise.

I could feel Master Dooku's presence shift.

I turned to him. His gaze lingered on the blade, his expression unreadable. Then, after a moment, he nodded once, approving.

"Elegant," he murmured. "Powerful. But remember—a weapon is only as noble as the hand that wields it."

I deactivated the saber, the energy retracting with a final whump of displaced air.

I exhaled, my fingers tightening around the hilt.

"Understood, Master."

"Good. Your proper training starts tomorrow." he said as he walked out of the room.

A/N So that's the Lightsaber arc done. I have a lightsaber now. The design in case you don't get it is very similar to the designs of the high republic crossguard sabers.

jiubantai-taicho: Very good points, that i will try to incorporate into the fic. though I would like to remind. I literally have nothing planned. I write this only when I get moments of inspiration or something. But Ill keep those in mind. Keep the suggestions coming. if it's sufficiently early and possible to add, I will probably add it to the next chapter of the fic.