The breath hit him like stone. Eli gasped awake, sprawled in his bedroll in the younglings' dormitory. Again.
No blaster fire. No screams. No saber hums echoing through the halls. Just the early murmur of the Temple waking up.
He was back.
Again.
His chest rose and fell in rapid succession, panic simmering beneath his ribs. It wasn't supposed to end like that. He had run. He had abandoned everything — friends, mentors, duty — all for the chance to live longer, survive and learn more. But he still died.
Why?
He buried his face in his palms. Eleven tries. Eleven lives. All lost.
His death had been silent this time. A flicker of movement in the dark. A flash of blue light behind him. A single instant of searing pain.
And then nothing.
Anakin.
Had he found Eli through the Force? Had hiding only delayed the inevitable?
He sat up slowly, letting the now-familiar dread settle over his shoulders like a cloak. Across the dormitory, Niyala stretched, yawning quietly. Tavi was still asleep, hugging his pillow with a serene smile that Eli now understood was doomed to fade.
Eli rose, dressed in silence, and slipped out into the hallway before anyone could speak to him. He needed to think. He needed to be alone.
But more than that—he needed to understand.
The Temple corridors were quiet in the early hours. Familiar. Safe. A cruel illusion. Every brick and arch hummed with a future Eli knew was only hours away. The massacre was coming. It always came.
This time, he had tried escape. Slipping away under the guise of fetching water, blending into the lower levels, crawling into maintenance tunnels beneath the Temple.
He'd made it as far as a forgotten corner of the undercity. No soldiers. No blasters. No confrontation. For once, there had been silence.
Until it wasn't.
He remembered the cold, mechanical footfalls. The snap-hiss of a lightsaber. The way the shadows lit up blue as death came for him.
He had died hiding.
It didn't make sense.
Back in the Archive chamber where he often went to think, Eli sat cross-legged, his back pressed against the smooth stone wall, his jaw tight. The words came out as a whisper but full of venom.
"I ran. I didn't fight. I didn't resist. And I still died."
His fists curled in his lap. "So what do I do now?"
The question didn't echo. The walls gave him no answers. Neither did the Force. It felt silent, distant. Like it was waiting for him to figure it out alone.
He felt a flicker of something ugly rise in his chest. Not fear. Not sadness.
Anger.
"I gave everything up," he said under his breath. "Left them all to die. Tavi. Niyala. Tallis. Drallig. Everyone."
He stared at the smooth floor, eyes burning.
"And it still wasn't enough."
The weight of the loop was pressing on him harder now. He hadn't realized how much hope he'd put into that last try—how much he'd believed that running would work. That he could come back with knowledge, tactics, ideas. That he could finally tip the scales in his favor.
Instead, he died alone.
Without purpose.
Without meaning.
He stood up abruptly, his robes fluttering with the motion, and stormed out of the Archives. He needed air. Space. He crossed the marble halls, passing Jedi he recognized but could barely look at anymore. Padawans chatting excitedly. Masters deep in discussion. He passed Master Zao in the meditation hall but didn't slow his stride.
Eventually, he found himself on a high balcony overlooking the cityscape of Coruscant. Speeders weaved through traffic lanes below. The towers stretched upward like durasteel trees, bathed in a gentle light.
It all looked so calm.
Eli leaned on the rail, eyes fixed on the horizon.
"I can't keep doing this," he said aloud. His voice was calm, but his hands trembled. "I'm eleven lives deep and still nothing."
The wind tugged at his robes. The Force tugged at his thoughts.
He'd tried to warn others — death.
Tried to stay and fight — death.
Tried to hide — death.
He had learned things. Patterns. Timing. Tactics. But not enough. It was like the universe was always one step ahead, waiting to end him no matter what he did.
And worst of all?
He had nothing to show for this last loop.
"I should have tried harder to reach them," he muttered, guilt blooming under his skin.
Tavi's laugh echoed in his memory.
Niyala's stubborn courage.
He'd left them.
And it hadn't mattered.
He was starting to understand something horrible: There might not be a way to save them all.
A gust of wind whipped across the balcony. It was sharp, bracing. It didn't offer peace. But it did bring clarity.
He wasn't done.
Not yet.
Eli turned and walked back inside.
This time, he wouldn't run. Not to hide. Not to save himself.
He needed more information — not about the clones or Anakin. About the Force. About the rules that governed this cycle.
There had to be something deeper he was missing.
And if the light wouldn't show him the way…
Then maybe it was time to look into the dark.
Not fall — not yet.
But he had questions that only forbidden knowledge might answer.
He passed by a group of Initiates headed toward the training halls. Niyala caught his eye and waved, smiling faintly.
Eli smiled back, faint and hollow.
Because he already knew what was coming.
But maybe next time, he'd be ready to meet it with something more than a child's fear.
Maybe next time, he'd bring fire.
And if the Temple was doomed to burn, he would at least make sure someone remembered why.