The confrontation came three days later, during our afternoon break.
I was helping a Twi'lek youngling named Mira with her meditation posture when I felt Seris's presence behind me, sharp and focused, like the edge of a blade. I finished adjusting Mira's breathing rhythm, then turned to face her.
Seris stood with her arms crossed, silver hair tied back in a tight braid. Her pale face was flushed, whether from exertion or emotion, I couldn't tell. Her silver eyes locked onto mine with an intensity that made several nearby younglings pause their conversations.
"Do you think you're the best one here?" she asked, her voice carefully controlled.
I blinked, genuinely confused. "What?"
"You're powerful in the Force and very talented. All the Knights and Masters know this." She gestured toward where Mira was now practicing on her own. "I've seen you help other younglings who are falling behind catch up to the class."
"Oh, you saw that?" I said, a nervous flutter in my chest. How long has she been watching?
Seris's expression didn't change. "Of course I noticed. And you would be ignorant to think the others didn't notice it as well." She paused, studying my face. "I'm curious about why you're helping them, though."
I stared at her for a moment, processing the question. There was something sad about it, the way she asked, as if the concept of helping others without ulterior motive was foreign to her. How little empathy does this girl have?
"Is it a problem that I want to help others and see them succeed?" I asked carefully.
Seris paused before answering, like she was calculating the correct response. "Of course not. But it is the responsibility of the instructors to help, not you." Her voice took on a confident edge. "If the others can't keep up, then they were not meant to be Jedi."
I sighed internally. Yup. This girl has a chip on her shoulder the size of a Star Destroyer. I wondered where she'd gotten that attitude from, her family? The Temple's competitive environment? Either way, I realized this was an opportunity. If I wanted to change the Order from within, I had to start with the children around me.
"Oh, I didn't know you were made a Jedi Master," I said, keeping my tone light.
"What?" Seris's carefully maintained composure cracked. "What do you mean?"
I stared at her blankly, watching the confusion spread across her face. "What I mean is, I didn't know they made younglings as young as five years old into Jedi Masters. Or are you the new Grandmaster of the Order?"
Seris's cheeks flushed red. "Don't be ridiculous. There's no way they would make me a Master or the Grandmaster. I haven't even taken the Initiate trials yet."
"Then why do you act like you get to decide who can and cannot be a Jedi?" I said, letting a cold edge enter my voice.
"That's not what I'm saying." Frustration bled through her words. "I'm saying if they can't keep up with the training, leave them behind and focus on yourself. What good would come from helping others who aren't as talented as you?"
She really doesn't understand. I reminded myself that despite her advanced abilities, Seris was still a child, one who'd been raised in a tradition that valued individual excellence over collective growth. I'm the adult here. Time to act like it.
"That doesn't sound very Jedi-like," I said quietly. "Ignoring those who are struggling, focusing only on yourself because you think you're better than them."
"I don't think I'm better than the others," Seris said, her voice rising slightly. "I know I am. And so do the instructors." She lifted her chin. "I come from a long line of Corellian Jedi. I know what I'm talking about."
I let the silence stretch between us, watching her carefully. She was defensive now, falling back on her lineage as justification. Time to push a little harder.
"You should be careful," I said, a slight smirk tugging at my lips. "You're starting to sound pretty arrogant. That doesn't sound like something a Jedi should be saying. Or have you already fallen to the dark side?"
"What did you say?" Seris's silver eyes flashed with genuine anger.
Good. Now she's listening.
"I'm saying, a lot of Jedi in the past thought the same way you did. A few of them rose high into the ranks of the Order. While others fell and became Dark Jedi, or worse, Sith." I held her gaze. "I'm not saying that's you. But it doesn't hurt to help others who are struggling to improve themselves."
Seris opened her mouth to respond, but I pressed on before she could.
"You talk about coming from a long line of Corellian Jedi, but why are you here and not with them? Why haven't they made their own official order away from this one?"
Her face twisted with frustration, and I knew I'd hit a nerve. Too far. Pull back.
"I apologize," I said quickly, softening my tone. "I don't know why you're here at this Temple, and I'm not trying to say anything bad about you." I took a breath. "You were amazing in our sparring sessions earlier. You're very talented. I hope you can teach me from time to time and help me improve as well."
Seris stared at me, surprise replacing the anger in her expression. "Are you trying to pity me? Do you think I'm like the others, and I need your nice words for approval?"
I didn't answer immediately. I paused, choosing my next words with the care of someone defusing a bomb. "No, I don't pity them, and I especially don't pity you. I do believe you're talented, and we can help each other grow and become better together."
Her expression shifted, still guarded, but calmer now. Waiting.
"I helped because they needed it, but they did the rest on their own. Me helping them doesn't hurt anyone." I met her eyes. "I believe if I had never come to this class, you would have been the one helping them eventually."
Seris narrowed her eyes. "What makes you say that?"
I smiled. Got her. "I believe you're capable of leading others to greatness. And I need people like that around me for the future."
Curiosity flickered across her face. "What are you trying to do in the future?"
I glanced over at Derren, who was watching us with poorly concealed interest. I smiled and started walking toward him. "If you want to see it, then keep improving with us."
I walked away, hoping I'd planted the right seeds. Seris needed to change her mentality, not just for her own sake, but because I would need all the help I could get in the years to come.
Behind me, I felt her gaze following me, thoughtful and uncertain.
Later that week, we sat in an Archive classroom, surrounded by the soft blue glow of holoprojectors and the faint scent of preserved datapads.
Chief Librarian Jocasta Nu stood at the front of the room, her posture perfect, her expression stern but not unkind. She was a human woman with silver hair pulled back in an elegant style, and her presence commanded immediate attention.
"These are the languages of the galaxy," she said, gesturing to the holographic display showing dozens of alien scripts and phonetic symbols. "Mind you, young ones, there are many. But do not be overwhelmed. Basic and Droidspeak are what we will cover over our time together." She paused, her sharp eyes sweeping across the room. "Should you want to become more fluent in other languages, please research them in your free time. Should you seek help or guidance, other Masters and I will be available to assist you."
My hand twitched.
Derren noticed immediately. He leaned over, his voice a whisper. "You okay, Cain?"
I nodded, frustration tightening my jaw. "Yeah. I'm fine."
But I wasn't fine. My brain hurt trying to process what I was attempting to do.
A child's mind was perfect for learning multiple languages at an early age, neuroplasticity at its peak. And I had the learning discipline of an adult, which meant I could comprehend concepts faster than most of these kids. But I wasn't trying to learn one language at a time.
I was going to learn Basic, which this body's brain already had some comprehension of. Droidspeak would be moderately difficult but manageable. I needed to learn Mando'a for my plans to help Mandalore. Trade languages like Sy Bisti and Jawaese would be essential for navigating the Outer Rim.
Sithese would be invaluable for future events—understanding ancient texts, deciphering Sith holocrons. Huttese and Shyriiwook felt like the hardest languages I'd have to tackle, but both would be necessary.
I know I'm doing too much. But I can't help it.
Seris and Derren exchanged glances. I didn't notice, I was too focused on the datapad in front of me, trying to absorb phonetic patterns for three different language families simultaneously.
"He's thinking too hard," Derren said, loud enough for me to hear. "It looks like he's gonna burn a hole through the holopad."
Seris looked unbothered, her attention on her own work. "It's his own fault if he takes on more than he can handle," she said coolly.
Derren cracked a smile. "Don't be like that. I know you care."
Seris's pointed ears twitched, but she said nothing. Then, without a word, she stood and moved to sit beside me.
"Focus on one thing at a time," she said quietly.
I looked up, startled. I hadn't even noticed her approach. "You're right. I'm sorry for worrying you," I said, offering a small smile.
She didn't smile back. Instead, she maintained her stoic expression and graceful posture. "I wasn't worried about you. But if you fall behind because you took on too much, then who will I compete with?" Her tone was carefully measured, trying to sound mature and detached.
Derren smirked, looking between us. "Wow. The Ice Princess does have a heart." He chuckled, and a few other younglings nearby joined in. "I guess Seris can feel things after all."
Seris's cheeks flushed red with embarrassment. She quickly corrected her expression and turned to face Derren, her silver eyes gleaming with predatory focus.
"Of course I care about my fellow younglings, Derren," she said sweetly. "I care so much that next time during saber lessons, I will be sparring with you the entire session."
Derren's smirk vanished instantly. "Oh no."
"Oh yes, indeed," Seris said, her eyes narrowing like a lioness sizing up prey.
I couldn't help but smile. Seeing this side of Seris, protective, fierce, and just a little bit playful, made me hopeful. Maybe she was starting to open up after all.
That night, I sat cross-legged in the dormitory, the soft glow of nightlamps casting long shadows across the rows of sleeping younglings. My white hair caught the light, shimmering faintly as I closed my eyes and reached out into the Force.
The physical world faded. The sounds of breathing, the hum of the Temple's systems, the distant murmur of Coruscant's traffic, all of it dissolved into silence.
And then, the void.
It was the same black expanse I'd experienced before, but this time I was more prepared. I centered myself, letting my consciousness drift without resistance. The golden light appeared above me, warm and welcoming, and around it, the shimmering stars began to emerge.
I've never heard of a Force ability like this, I thought, excitement mixing with caution. But I need to understand it.
I focused, trying to explore the realm more closely. At first, nothing changed. The stars remained distant, their colors shifting and pulsing with life. But then I remembered something, during my first vision, I'd seen Anakin's face when I looked closely at his star.
What if I can see others the same way?
I turned my attention to the nearest light, a shimmering green star, steady and ancient. I focused on its center, and the void seemed to zoom inward, the star growing larger until I could see what lay within.
Master Yoda.
He sat in perfect meditation, his small form glowing with serene power. The green light surrounded him completely, and he was centered within it, fully actualized, fully present.
He's tapped into his potential. That's what it means to be at the center.
I shifted my focus to another star, a blue light with a flickering yellow hue. As I concentrated, the image resolved.
Master Plo Koon.
He stood in a meditative prayer pose, his hands clasped together, his presence calm and unwavering. Like Yoda, he was centered within his light.
They've both reached their full potential. Or close to it.
I looked further, scanning the void. In the distance, I saw Anakin's star, silver-white, flickering between colors, surrounded by crackling energy. But Anakin wasn't at the center. He was outside the light, just like me.
We haven't tapped into our potential yet. We're still... becoming.
The realization was both humbling and exhilarating. This ability, whatever it was, allowed me to see the Force-sensitive individuals around me and gauge their connection to the Force. Those centered within their light had realized their potential. Those outside it were still growing.
I wonder how many others I can see.
I let my consciousness drift further, searching for other lights. There were dozens, some bright, some dim, some flickering uncertainly. Each one represented a life touched by the Force. And somewhere among them, I was a golden star, shining but not yet centered.
Not yet. But someday.
The next day, after morning meditation, Master Yoda gathered us in the training hall.
"Promise, you are all beginning to show, yes," he said, his large eyes sweeping across the group. "But promise alone, not enough is. Action, you must take. Practice, you must commit to."
He tapped his cane against the floor, and the training droids activated, moving into formation.
"Today, drills we begin. Then sparring, one another you will face."
The session was intense. We ran through Form I sequences until my arms ached, then moved into partner drills. As promised, Seris sparred with Derren for most of the session. He begged me to save him before they started. I told him he'd be fine.
He wasn't.
Seris beat him so quickly that Derren barely managed to land a proper strike. She was relentless, her movements precise and efficient, exploiting every opening he left. By the end of their third bout, Derren was panting and bruised, while Seris looked barely winded.
"I think... I've learned my lesson," Derren gasped, leaning on his training saber.
Seris gave him a small, satisfied smile. "Good."
I watched them, thoughtful. Derren was actually quite talented, he had raw power and good instincts. He just didn't know how to channel them yet. With proper training, he could become exceptional. Maybe even rival some of the legendary duelists from the Old Republic era, Kao Cen Darach, Cin Drallig.
Another problem the Order has, I thought grimly. So many talented younglings, but the Temple doesn't know how to properly nurture individual strengths. They teach to the average, not to potential.
It was one of the things I'd admired about Luke Skywalker's New Jedi Order in the Legends timeline. Despite its flaws and eventual collapse, Luke's Order had produced Jedi with diverse abilities and techniques that rivaled, and sometimes surpassed, the Old Republic's greatest Masters.
If I survive long enough, maybe I can help build something better.
Later that night, during free time, I found myself in the Temple's Meditation Gardens with Derren and Seris.
The gardens were beautiful, carefully maintained pathways wound between flowering plants and small meditation alcoves, all bathed in the soft glow of bioluminescent moss. The air smelled faintly of jasmine and something else I couldn't identify, sweet and calming.
We'd come here to practice. Master Yoda had introduced us to Form II—Makashi—at the end of class, and the three of us wanted to get ahead.
"Form II is the duelist's form," Yoda had explained. "Precision, it requires. Economy of motion. Elegance over power."
We practiced with wooden training sabers, working through the basic stances and strikes. Makashi felt different from Shii-Cho, lighter, more refined. Where Form I was about broad, powerful strikes, Form II was about control and efficiency.
"Your footwork is off," Seris said, watching Derren attempt a lunge.
"I know, I know," Derren muttered, adjusting his stance.
I worked through the sequences slowly, feeling the way each movement flowed into the next. My adult mind appreciated the geometry of it, the angles, the balance, the way a small adjustment could create a massive advantage.
We sparred for a while, trading partners, offering corrections and encouragement. By the time we called it a night, I felt the pleasant ache of muscles well-used and the satisfaction of progress made.
Derren and Seris headed back to the dormitories, but I stayed behind. I had work to do.
I pulled out a small holopad I'd borrowed from the Archives and began making notes. Everything I could remember from my previous life, Canon and Legends lore, major events, key figures, technological developments, Force techniques.
I need to write this down before I forget anything. Big details, small details, everything. I was so focused on my work that I didn't notice the presence approaching until a soft voice spoke.
"You look like you have a lot on your mind."
I turned slightly. A young girl stood just inside the archway, watching me with curious eyes. Her skin was a soft green, her face marked with the distinctive diamond tattoos of a Mirialan. Her dark blue eyes shimmered in the faint light.
Barriss Offee.
I'd almost forgotten she'd be here. She was closer to Anakin's age than Ahsoka's, which meant she was already a youngling at the Temple.
I composed myself and responded calmly. "I tend to think a lot about the future. Preparing myself."
Barriss's expression softened with curiosity. "What could a youngling like you need to prepare for right now, besides the Initiate trials?"
I smirked. "I'm thinking past that. Past becoming a Padawan, a Knight, or even a Master."
She didn't say anything at first. Then she spoke, and something in the air shifted, a gentle wisdom that seemed too old for her young face.
"It's scary to think so far ahead when we don't even know what will happen tomorrow. If I were you, I would focus on the now before it passes you by." She smiled. "That's something I heard Master Plo Koon say once."
I felt a strange mix of emotions. Here I was, technically an adult in a child's body, being lectured by an actual child about living in the present. If only I had that luxury.
But she was right. I needed to remember to enjoy the small moments, even while planning for the future.
"Thank you," I said sincerely. "I believe you, and Master Plo, are both correct. I'll make sure to do that more."
She walked forward and held out her hand. "I'm Barriss. Barriss Offee."
I extended my hand to shake hers. "I'm Cain. It's nice to meet you."
Barriss's smile widened slightly. "I know who you are. The whole Temple does." She paused, her expression becoming more thoughtful. "I saw you in the meditation room when you first arrived. I thought you were beautiful, how you shone like a golden star."
I felt my cheeks flush. Of course she saw that. I wonder why I haven't seen her until now?
"Thank you," I said, unsure how else to respond.
Barriss gave a small bow. "I should let you get back to your work. But maybe we can talk again sometime?"
"I'd like that," I said.
She smiled once more, then turned and disappeared into the shadows of the garden path.
I sat there for a moment, processing the encounter. Barriss Offee, a Jedi who, in the original timeline, would fall to darkness during the Clone Wars, manipulated by disillusionment and desperation. And died a somewhat redeeming death in the Disney canon.
Not this time, I thought. If I can help it, not this time.
Elsewhere in the Temple, on a high balcony overlooking the Meditation Gardens, Master Fay stood at the edge, her long blonde hair drifting in the breeze like moonlight.
She wore simple pale robes that shimmered faintly under the glow of Coruscant's skyline. Her ancient eyes, far older than her youthful appearance suggested, watched the scene below with quiet intrigue.
She had observed the conversation between Cain and Barriss with interest. The golden-eyed youngling was... unusual. Powerful, yes, but there was something else. A depth to him that didn't match his age. A weight in his presence that spoke of knowledge beyond his years.
What are you, young one? she wondered. And why do I feel the Force has brought you here for a purpose?
Footsteps approached from behind her. She didn't turn, she already knew who it was.
"You summoned me, Master?" Seris's voice was slightly breathless, as if she'd hurried to arrive.
"I did not summon," Fay said softly, still gazing out at the gardens. "I invited."
She turned to face the young Sephi girl. Seris stood in the archway, her posture perfect despite her obvious exertion from training. She bowed respectfully.
"How are your classes going, little one?" Fay asked.
Seris straightened. "They are going well, Master. I have been staying on top of all the materials."
Fay studied her carefully. "Is that all? How are you doing with your fellow younglings? Are you getting along with them well?"
Seris's pointed ears twitched slightly. "I'm not worried about getting along with the others. I don't dislike anyone, but I'm more focused on learning."
Fay walked gracefully toward her, then knelt so they were at eye level. Her expression was soft, maternal. "I'm glad you are excelling in your lessons. Master Yoda tells me so from time to time." She paused. "But your heart and spirit must learn to open and connect with those around you. Otherwise, your connection to the Force will be limited."
Seris didn't answer immediately. Frustration flickered across her face before she composed herself. "I understand, Master. I will open myself up more to those around me."
Fay smiled gently. "Thank you, Seris. That's all I ask." She paused, then added, "Also, how do you feel about the youngling Cain?"
Seris's expression shifted to confusion. "I don't understand what all the fuss is about him. He is strong in the Force, it's nothing the Order hasn't seen before."
Fay looked at her closely. "Seris, are you jealous of youngling Cain's abilities?"
Seris let out a small, forced laugh. "No, Master, I'm not. If anything, I welcome the challenge. It pushes me to test myself against what some are calling the second coming of Master Yoda, or the Chosen One."
"Do you like youngling Cain, Seris?"
Seris's eyes widened. Her cheeks flushed, and her ears twitched rapidly. "Of course not, Master. What is there to like about him?" She paused, then added quickly, "I mean, I'd be lying if I said his golden eyes aren't beautiful. But I'm working to become a Jedi. We aren't allowed attachments."
Fay's smile deepened, knowing and gentle. "Seris, you come from the Corellian sect of the Jedi Order. You are allowed to leave in the future, with youngling Cain or anyone you want, and start a family."
Seris blushed deeper, then composed herself. "I have no reason to go back there, Master. I am happy here."
Fay nodded slowly. "Your grandmother would be sad to hear that. But I understand." She stood, her robes flowing around her. "Thank you for your time, youngling Seris. You are free to leave if you have nothing more to say."
Seris bowed. "Good night, Master."
She turned and left the balcony, her footsteps echoing softly in the corridor. Fay watched her go, then turned back to gaze out at the gardens below. Her expression was thoughtful, tinged with something that might have been sadness.
"She's so much like my sister."