We stood in silence in the grand Council Chamber, surrounded by Jedi Masters whose presence seemed to fill the very air with weight and purpose. Some were from the Council itself, others were renowned throughout the Order for their wisdom and skill.
The morning light streamed through the tall windows, painting everything in shades of gold and amber. It should have been beautiful, calming even. Instead, it felt like standing before judgment itself.
Masters Yoda, Plo Koon, Shaak Ti, Mace Windu, and Master Fay stood in a semicircle before us, their expressions ranging from stern to gentle, from curious to knowing.
Master Windu stepped forward, his hands clasped behind his back, his presence commanding without effort. When he spoke, his voice was calm but carried the authority of someone who had seen countless younglings stand where we now stood.
"You five," he began, his dark eyes moving across each of our faces, "have been summoned here because you have all, at one point or another, shown your readiness to move past the title of initiate to Padawan."
I felt it then, the ripple of emotion through the Force, as clear as if they'd spoken aloud.
Barriss's nervousness radiated off her like heat from a flame. Not panic, exactly, but a deep-seated anxiety that made my chest tighten in sympathy. She was worried about measuring up, about being worthy of standing beside us.
Anakin's presence was different, he was eager and calm at once, like a coiled spring waiting to be released. He was ready for this, had been ready for months. There was confidence there, but also a hunger to prove himself.
Seris's emotions were more controlled, but I could still feel them: happiness threaded with excitement, carefully contained beneath her usual composure. Her ears twitched slightly, the only outward sign of what she was feeling.
And Derren... Derren was the calmest of all of us. His presence in the Force was like still water, peaceful and centered. Nothing seemed to disturb him, as if he'd already accepted whatever outcome awaited us.
How can I sense all of this so clearly? I wondered, not for the first time. Our bond had deepened since Ilum, but this was different. This was intimate, like I could reach out and touch the very essence of who they were.
"You will now be tested for Padawanship," Master Windu continued, his gaze settling on each of us in turn.
"However," Master Shaak Ti said, stepping forward with her characteristic grace, "the strength you have shown, both individually and together, has accelerated this moment. The Council believes you are ready... sooner than we typically expect."
Her words should have filled me with pride. Instead, I felt the weight of responsibility settle heavier on my shoulders.
"But the Trials," Yoda added, tapping his gimer stick against the polished floor for emphasis, "we will not rush. Face them, you will. One at a time. In full."
Master Fay moved forward then, her ancient eyes seeming to see straight through us. When she spoke, her voice carried the weight of centuries.
"These are not mere tasks," she said gently but firmly. "These Trials are a reflection of your essence. Each one of you will undergo a trial we believe addresses your greatest weakness. By overcoming your individual weaknesses, we believe you will be ready for the next step."
She paused, letting her words sink in.
"These trials test not just your ability to act, but your ability to be still and trust the Force, to listen when it speaks to you."
"The trials are not identical for all," Shaak Ti explained, her lekku shifting slightly as she spoke. "But their core is shared. The principles remain the same, even as the challenges differ."
Master Plo Koon stepped forward, his masked face turning toward us as he activated a small holographic projector. The air shimmered, and Galactic Basic script appeared, floating between us and the Masters.
"These are your pillars," Plo said, his voice resonant and clear through his mask.
The first line of text glowed brighter: Demonstration of Knowledge
"You must show your understanding of Jedi history, philosophy, and the Code—not as memorization, but through choice and reflection. Knowledge without wisdom is merely information. We seek to see how you apply what you have learned."
The second line illuminated: Self-Discipline
"You will be placed in emotionally charged scenarios. Through meditation and control, you must prove mastery over your impulses. This is not about suppressing emotion, but about choosing how you respond to it."
The third line brightened: Force Proficiency
"Finally, you will face a challenge where only the Force can guide you. No amount of physical skill or intellectual knowledge will suffice. You must trust in the Force completely."
We stared at the hologram, and I felt something settle in my chest. It felt right. Balanced. These weren't arbitrary tests, they were designed to reveal who we truly were. Master Fay turned toward us, her expression gentle but serious.
"Each of you will take your trial alone," she said softly. "Your friends may walk beside you in training, but in the test itself, you will be with the Force. Nothing more."
Master Shaak Ti nodded in agreement. "These are real trials, customized to reveal who you truly are. Not who you think you should be, or who others expect you to be. Who you are, at your core."
Master Windu's voice cut through the chamber with quiet authority.
"You may not all succeed. Not yet. And that is no shame." His eyes moved across each of us. "A Jedi's path must be walked at the pace of the soul, not the pressure of expectation. If you are not ready, there will be other opportunities. Better to wait than to rush and fail yourself."
I looked to Anakin. Anakin looked to Barriss. Barriss looked to Seris. Seris looked to Derren. And Derren looked back to me, completing the circle.
We all breathed together. "We understand," we said in unison, bowing deeply.
Master Plo Koon stepped forward, holding out a scroll that looked ancient, its surface etched with crystalline script that caught the morning light.
"In keeping with the Will of the Force," he said solemnly, "we have meditated on the order of trials."
He unrolled the scroll and read: "Barriss Offee will go first, then Derren Talvos, followed by Seris Vhalan, then Anakin Skywalker, and finally... Cain."
We bowed again, deeper this time. "We are ready, Masters," I said, speaking for all of us.
The echo of lightsabers clashing rang through the Training Chamber as Barriss and Derren moved around each other in a dueling session. Their training sabers hummed and sparked with each contact, the sound filling the otherwise empty space.
"Again!" Barriss called out, her breathing heavy as she wiped sweat from her brow with the back of her hand.
Derren chuckled, lowering his saber slightly. "You know we don't have to spar until we collapse, right? We've been at this for two hours."
"I know," Barriss replied, raising her saber back into a defensive stance. Her jade green eyes were determined, almost fierce. "But you've all grown so much in your saber forms. I need to catch up before it's too late. If I'm going to stand beside you—beside all of you—I have to grow too."
Derren's expression softened as he moved through a series of slashes and parries, his movements fluid and controlled.
"But you have grown, Barriss. So much, in your own way." His voice was warm, encouraging. "Your connection to the Living Force is amazing. The rest of us feel it every time we meditate with you. You make the Force feel... alive. Like it's breathing with us."
He executed a perfect Soresu deflection, redirecting her strike harmlessly to the side.
"Cain says it feels like you could lead the mystical arts of the Jedi to new heights someday. That you have a gift none of the rest of us possess."
Barriss paused mid-strike, her saber locked against Derren's in a deadlock. Her eyes widened slightly.
"Wait... Cain said that? About me?"
"Yes," Derren said with a genuine smile, not straining at all despite the pressure of their locked blades. "And the rest of us agree with him completely. You're talented, Barriss. You have so much potential. And if you need help in areas where you feel weak, please don't hesitate to ask. We're here for you."
He gently disengaged, stepping back and lowering his saber.
"But don't push yourself to live up to an expectation that no one actually has of you. We're your friends, Barriss. Powerful or weak, skilled or still learning, we'll be your friends no matter what. That's not conditional."
Barriss's eyes began to glisten with unshed tears. She blinked rapidly, trying to maintain her composure, but her voice wavered when she spoke.
"You're right, Derren. Thank you." She bowed her head, her dark hair falling forward to hide her face. "Would you... would you please continue to help me strengthen my saber forms?"
"Of course," Derren said, his smile widening. "What are friends for?"
The two bowed to each other formally, then raised their sabers and recommenced their duel, but this time, the energy was different. Less desperate, more collaborative. A dance rather than a battle.
From the doorway on the far side of the chamber, Anakin leaned against the wall with his arms crossed, watching them with a slight smile on his face. He'd been there for the last few minutes, drawn by the sound of their sparring.
He watched for a moment longer, then pushed off the wall and left, the smile still playing at his lips. Cain was right, he thought. As always.
Anakin found them in the Temple Library, tucked away in one of the quieter alcoves where the afternoon light filtered through tall windows.
Seris sat with perfect posture, a holobook floating in front of her, her silver eyes scanning the text with focused intensity. Cain sat across from her, hunched over his personal holopad, stylus moving rapidly as he wrote something, notes, probably, or one of his endless strategic plans.
Anakin approached and dropped into the seat across from them, the chair scraping slightly against the polished floor. "You were right about Barriss," he said without preamble.
Cain didn't even look up from his holopad, just nodded slightly. "I know. That's why I asked Derren to help her."
Anakin leaned back in his chair, kicking his feet up onto the table, a habit that would have earned him a sharp rebuke from any passing Master. He laced his hands behind his head, looking between the two of them.
"So why don't we all just train together, then? Wouldn't that be easier?"
"She wouldn't learn anything from that," Seris said, her eyes never leaving her holobook. Her voice was matter-of-fact, almost clinical. "She compares herself to us because we shine so bright. Unlike during the Gathering on Ilum, she hasn't found that same confidence in herself yet, because she's always with us, always measuring herself against our progress."
She turned a page with a flick of her finger.
"Derren is the best at helping others. He reads people naturally and adjusts his teaching to match their needs. I would have suggested you, Anakin, but that would be a bad idea."
Anakin's feet came off the table as he sat up straight, looking at Seris with an irritated expression.
"Why would that be a bad idea?"
"Because Cain says you're too talented," Seris replied, still not looking up. "You don't know how to train someone who isn't as naturally gifted as you are. Almost everything comes to you easily, you don't understand the struggle of someone who has to work twice as hard for half the result."
She finally glanced up, meeting his eyes.
"Derren is talented and great at reading others. He adjusts to them, helps guide them at their pace. You, on the other hand, make others adjust to your style, your pace. And only very few talented people can keep up with that."
Anakin looked confused for a moment, his brow furrowing as he processed her words. Then a grin slowly spread across his face.
"So what you're saying is... I'm too advanced to teach Barriss?" The grin widened, becoming almost smug. "I mean, I guess I can understand that. Only truly special people can handle my teaching style."
Seris and I looked at each other and rolled our eyes in perfect synchronization.
He's not entirely wrong, though, I thought, finally setting down my stylus. Anakin can teach others—he'll prove that with Ahsoka someday. But his methods aren't for everyone. They're intense, demanding, pushing people to their absolute limits.
Besides Ahsoka, I don't know how Commander Rex and the 501st survived under his leadership in that other timeline. The sheer intensity of it, the constant danger, the impossible missions... It just goes to show they were truly some of the best. The absolute best. And that's exactly why I'll make sure they don't meet that same fate. Not this time.
I pushed the thought away and returned to my writing, letting Anakin bask in his moment of smug satisfaction.
Later that night, in the shared initiate meditation dormitory, Barriss and Seris sat in the far corner of the room. A soft glowstone lantern rested on the floor between them, casting gentle light across their faces.
The dormitory was mostly empty. Derren had left earlier, saying something about needing fresh air and a walk through the gardens. Cain and Anakin were in the workshop area, tinkering with the training droid's Maul simulation program, their voices occasionally drifting down the hallway in animated discussion.
Which left just the two of them. Seris drew her knees up to her chest, wrapping her arms around them, a posture that looked almost vulnerable on someone usually so composed.
"I've been thinking," she said softly, her voice barely above a whisper. "About... attachments."
Barriss tilted her head slightly, her expression open and curious. "What about them?"
Seris was quiet for a long moment, as if gathering her thoughts, or perhaps her courage.
"I come from the Corellian sect of Jedi," she finally said. "A long line of Force-sensitives and Jedi alike. Sephi and Echani lineage, though even though my parents and grandparents are Sephi, we still look more Echani, minus the ears, obviously."
She gestured vaguely at her pointed ears.
"Our house is one of many traditiona and... expectations." She paused, seeming to struggle with the words. "Look, I'm not close to my family. Not really. But the first thing I remember my grandmother teaching me, before she sent me to the Order, was to be the best. No matter what. I must always the best."
Her voice took on a slightly harder edge. "She said that when I succeeded, when I became the best, I could return to Corellia as a proud member of our house. That I would bring honor to our name."
"That's a lot of pressure to put on someone so young," Barriss said gently, her jade green eyes filled with sympathy.
Seris nodded, but there was something almost defiant in the gesture.
"Not really. I like being the best. I like pushing myself, testing my limits, proving what I'm capable of." She looked down at her hands. "But since Cain and Anakin came... everything changed."
She was quiet again, and Barriss waited patiently, not pushing.
"Even Derren is talented," Seris continued, "but I feel like he's hiding just how talented he really is. Like it's almost a chore for him to show his full ability. But with Cain and Anakin around, he actually tries harder. He pushes himself."
"Do you feel like you're not good enough, Seris?" Barriss asked carefully. "Because that's not true. You're...."
"It's not that," Seris interrupted, then softened her tone. "I promise, Barriss. It's not about feeling inadequate."
A very rare smile crossed her face, small, but genuine.
"I've been thinking about attachments more lately. I always thought they were dangerous, something to be avoided at all costs. I wanted Anakin to let go of his mother, remember? I thought that was the right thing, the Jedi thing."
She looked down again.
"But... now I'm not sure."
Barriss watched her in silence, her expression understanding.
"I think..." Seris's voice dropped to barely a whisper. "I think I feel something. Like a strong friendship, but... not just friendship. For someone."
Barriss didn't blink. She didn't even pretend not to understand. "I understand," she said gently, a soft smile on her face.
Seris looked up, surprised by the easy acceptance.
"I think it's normal," Barriss continued. "Like Cain said once—it's not what the Code wants, maybe, but we're not droids. We're still growing, still learning who we are. And we have feelings. Real feelings."
She reached out and placed a hand on Seris's arm. "The mistake isn't having the feelings. Maybe the mistake is ignoring what they teach us about ourselves, about what matters to us."
Seris nodded slowly, something like relief washing over her features. I think I like Cain, she thought, but didn't say aloud. I think I've liked him for a while now.
They didn't speak again for several minutes, just sitting together in the soft glow of the lantern, enjoying each other's company. Sometimes, Barriss had learned, the most important conversations were the ones that happened in silence.
The next morning, all five of us stood together in the antechamber outside the Council Chamber, our lightsaber hilts hanging at our sides.
The weight of what was coming pressed down on all of us, but there was excitement too, anticipation mixed with determination.
Derren broke the silence first, a wide smile on his face. "We've got this, guys," he said with his characteristic optimism. "We've trained for this. We're ready."
"Of course we are," Anakin said, his voice confident. His hand rested on his lightsaber hilt, and I could feel his eagerness through our bond.
I stepped forward, looking at each of them in turn, my friends, my family, my brothers and sisters in all but blood.
"Okay, ladies and gentlemen," I said, letting a small smile cross my face. "Let's show the Masters our convictions. Let's show them who we really are."
Seris met my eyes and nodded, her expression calm but her silver eyes burning with determination. Barriss took a deep breath, centering herself. Derren's smile widened. Anakin's hand tightened on his saber hilt.
And together, as one, we turned toward the Council Chamber doors.