Coruscant's first light crawled up the skyline, its golden fingers spilling across the Temple's terraces. From this height, the city was a distant hum — low, constant, like the breath of some sleeping giant.
But up here?There was only wind.And stone.And sky.
Kaelen stepped onto the terrace with silent feet.
No cloak.No armor.Just the simple training robes Windu had insisted on.
His saber hung at his side, untouched.
At the far edge, seated like a statue carved from the Temple itself, was Mace Windu.
Kaelen didn't announce himself. He didn't need to.
Windu's awareness filled the air like a taut string — Kaelen felt it hum against his skin.
But the master didn't turn. Didn't speak. He just breathed.
Kaelen stopped four paces behind.
Watching.Waiting.
Then, without looking, Windu raised a single hand.A simple gesture.
Sit.
Kaelen obeyed. Not out of deference. Out of intent.
The stone was cold under his legs as he folded into position.
He didn't mirror Windu's posture — he wouldn't pretend to be at ease when he wasn't.
The breeze played at the hem of his sleeves. He watched the horizon but felt the space between them more than anything.
Still, Windu didn't speak.
The silence wasn't empty.
It was precise.
Not an absence — a container, waiting to be filled.
Kaelen's jaw tensed. His breaths came clipped. Controlled.
Stillness, for him, had always meant one thing: danger.
Then Windu's voice cut through the wind. Low. Even.
"Stillness isn't silence."
A pause.
"It's preparation."
Kaelen didn't answer. But the words stuck. Like seeds finding cracks in stone.
He breathed deeper. Just to see.
And for the first time, the quiet didn't feel like a trap.
It felt like something else.
Jedi Temple — South Training Platform, Midmorning
The light had shifted from gold to silver.
Sunlight poured across the sparring grounds like judgment — unbending, absolute.
Generations had bled on these stones.
Today, only two stood upon them.
Windu dragged his boot across the dust, carving a clean, perfect circle.
"Control the space," he said, tapping the line. "Without touching its edges."
Kaelen stepped into the circle without hesitation.
At first, he stood still. Shoulders loose. Eyes forward.
Then he moved.
A slow pivot. A measured glide of his foot. A half-turn.
He didn't reach outward. He coiled inward.
The Force pulsed inside him — not calm, not serene. Coiled. Pressurized.
A storm in a bottle.
Windu watched, reading him as easily as a text.
"You don't understand stillness."
Kaelen stopped mid-step.
Windu stepped closer.
"You manipulate it. Like a dam holding back a flood."
Kaelen's gaze sharpened.
"You don't control a storm by pretending it isn't there."
Their eyes locked.
No heat.No anger.Just recognition.
They were speaking the same language — but writing in different alphabets.
Jedi Temple — Sand Garden Arena, Early Afternoon
The sand was patterned in concentric spirals, raked long ago by some long-forgotten hand.
Kaelen stood on one side.
Windu on the other.
"No sabers," Windu said.
It wasn't a command. It was a gate.
Kaelen crouched, unclipped his weapon, and set it gently in the sand.
Deliberate. Respectful.
When he rose, he felt lighter.
And somehow more dangerous.
Kaelen moved first. A low feint. A shoulder roll.
Windu absorbed it effortlessly, turning Kaelen's force back on him with a single pivot.
One heartbeat later, Kaelen hit the ground hard.
Sand stuck to his skin as he rolled back into a crouch.
Windu extended a hand.
Kaelen ignored it. He rose on his own.
"You want control," Kaelen said quietly, "but never ask what the cost is."
Windu's expression didn't change.
"Discipline without pain is faith. Discipline with pain?"
He stepped into the center.
"That's character."
The words settled heavier than the sand.
Jedi Temple — Rooftop Balcony, Late Afternoon
Kaelen sat cross-legged, boots off, saber at his side.
For the first time in years, stillness didn't feel like waiting for the next blow.
It felt like choice.
He closed his eyes.
Breathed.
Not deep. Not controlled.
Just honest.
And Windu's words from sunrise echoed in him.
"Stillness isn't silence. It's preparation."
This time, the words didn't just sound true.
They felt true.
Jedi Temple — Inner Hallway, Late Night
Most of the Temple slept.
Kaelen sat in an old meditation alcove, saber in his open palm.
Not gripped. Not ready. Just… held.
A presence.
A memory.
Windu appeared at the edge of the alcove and lowered himself silently beside him.
No doctrine. No lecture.
Just presence.
After a long time, Kaelen spoke.
"I'm not ready to let go of who I was."
It wasn't confession.
It was truth.
Windu's eyes dropped to the saber.
"Then hold it differently."
Kaelen rotated the hilt in his palm, shifting its weight.
Not as a weapon.
As something carried.
Acknowledged.
Not claimed.
They sat in silence.
No blade between them.
Only the choice to stay.