The plains of Mandalore stretched wide and golden beneath the pale sun, dust rising where the wind swept across the dry grass. It was a land that seemed both beautiful and unforgiving — every rock and ridge whispered of battles fought and lives lost. On the outskirts of Keldabe, far from the bustling cities and Satine Kryze's pacifist reforms, a stronghold of Clan Ordo stood against the horizon.
Within its stone walls, a boy ran.
Kaelen Shan's bare feet slapped against the dirt courtyard, kicking up sand as he sprinted toward his father, who stood waiting with a training staff across his shoulders. Caden Ordo, broad and scarred, was clad in partial beskar, the armor dulled from years of service. His helmet rested at his hip, the black T-visor catching the sun like a silent promise.
"You're late, ad'ika," Caden said, voice gravelly but not unkind.
Kaelen grinned, chest heaving. "Mother was making me copy passages again. Ancient history, old battles. Boring."
From the veranda, a woman's voice called back, amused: "Boring, he says! Those words are the foundation of our people, Kaelen."
Elira Shan descended the steps, her brown scholar's robe catching the dry breeze. She was the picture of gentleness in contrast to Caden's hardened edges — but her eyes carried the same steel. She carried a datapad tucked under one arm, and a faint smile touched her lips.
Caden shook his head. "A warrior doesn't win by words. He wins by training. Verd ori'shya beskar'gam."
Kaelen repeated the phrase clumsily, tongue wrapping around the Mando'a syllables. "A warrior is more than his armor."
"Good," Caden said, handing him the training staff. "Now prove it."
The boy's grin widened.
The crack of staffs filled the air. Caden moved with measured strength, Kaelen darted with reckless energy. He was quick — too quick — but his balance wavered. A sharp knock sent the staff spinning from his hands, clattering against the stone.
Kaelen growled and reached for it, but his father's boot was already on the weapon.
"Patience," Caden said. "Strength without control is nothing."
Kaelen's small fists clenched. He wanted to snap back, to argue — but his mother's hand rested gently on his shoulder.
"Your father is right, Kaelen," Elira said. "History remembers warriors who fought with wisdom. Without it, even the strongest are forgotten."
Caden smirked. "Spoken like a scholar."
"And you like a hammer," Elira replied, raising a brow.
They shared a look that spoke of a thousand arguments and a thousand more reconciliations.
Kaelen groaned. "Can I just fight already?"
"Again," Caden ordered.
The sun dipped lower as training ended. Kaelen's arms ached, but he held himself proudly despite the bruises. Elira beckoned him inside the stronghold, into a small chamber lined with datapads, flimsisheets, and artifacts. A soft glow filled the space, casting light across a holocron resting on a pedestal — its crystal facets gleaming faintly.
Kaelen's eyes always lingered there. "Tell me again," he whispered.
Elira knelt, her robe pooling around her. She touched the holocron but did not activate it. "This is all that remains of our line, Kaelen. The Shan family. Once, it was said we walked with the Jedi. We carried their strength, their faith."
"Were they warriors too?" Kaelen asked.
"In their way," Elira replied. "But not just warriors. Protectors. Seekers of peace."
Caden's voice echoed from the doorway: "And sometimes conquerors."
Elira's gaze sharpened, but Kaelen's curiosity burned brighter than their quiet tension. "Can I be both? A protector and a warrior?"
Elira's hand brushed his cheek. "One day, you will choose what kind of man you'll become. Until then, remember: the Force flows through every choice, even if you don't feel it yet."
Kaelen tilted his head. "The Force?"
"You'll understand in time," she said softly.
That night, as Kaelen lay beneath Mandalore's star-swept sky, he whispered the words his father had taught him in Mando'a and the names his mother had given him from history. His young mind burned with dreams of battles, of wisdom, of choices yet unseen.
He did not know that within him ran the blood of Jedi heroes and Mandalorian legends alike.He did not know that fate was already watching.He only knew he wanted to be strong — and that tomorrow, he would train again.