The moment my mother stepped into the hallway, the air shifted. The strange man, who had been watching me with a gentle smile just a moment ago, immediately straightened his posture. His back snapped upright, and his face grew more serious. He stood tall, his funny hat casting a shadow over his eyes. With one swift motion, he brought his hand to his chest and saluted my mother with a sharp, "Milady."

My mother, still holding me in her arms, glanced between me and the guard. Her brows furrowed, her face a mixture of relief and confusion. "Alex, what are you doing here?" she asked, her voice softer now, but still tinged with the remnants of concern.

The guard, standing stiff as a statue, spoke up before I could even babble a response. "He crawled out of his room, milady," the guard said in that same deep, formal tone. "I found him in the hallway just now."

I shifted in my mother’s arms, peeking over her shoulder at the guard. His funny stick—something I had only seen from afar—gleamed faintly in the light of the hallway. I wasn’t sure why, but something about the way he held it felt important.

My mother let out a soft sigh, brushing my hair away from my face. "Thank you," she said to the guard, her voice polite but firm. "I’ll take him back now."

The guard gave a slight bow of his head, then turned and left, disappearing down the hallway. But even as my mother cradled me in her arms, talking quietly to herself, I couldn’t help but turn my head and gaze back toward the open hallway.

It was beautiful—more beautiful than I had imagined. The walls were lined with large paintings, their frames intricate and golden, gleaming in the soft light. Between the paintings, tall green plants sat in grand pots, their leaves reaching toward the ceiling like they were trying to touch the sky. The hallway stretched far, far longer than I had thought, winding into places unknown.

I spotted the paintings on the walls. Some were of landscapes, vibrant with colors I couldn’t yet name. There were sunsets that bathed mountains in soft pink and orange hues, forests painted in deep greens and blues. But what caught my eye the most were the portraits.

I blinked, leaning slightly out of my mother’s arms to get a better look. The faces in the paintings—some of them looked like Dad. His familiar, bearded face was there, gazing down at me from the canvas with the same soft smile he gave me in the mornings. But there were other faces too—people who looked like him, but not quite. Some older, some younger, but all with that same warm presence, like they were part of him in some way.

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While my mother spoke softly to the guard, I found myself unable to resist the pull of the hallway. My legs squirmed in her arms, eager to explore the grand corridor stretching out before me. The soft hum of distant voices echoed from somewhere further down, along with a series of muffled sounds—laughter, footsteps, maybe even music. It was faint, but it called to me in a way I couldn’t ignore.

My mother didn’t notice as I wriggled out of her grasp. With a soft grunt, I slid from her arms and plopped down onto the floor, the plush carpet cushioning my fall. I was on the move again, crawling toward the sounds that beckoned me.

The hallway seemed endless as I made my way forward. The air smelled sweet, like the plants that lined the walls. The light overhead was soft, casting a golden glow that made everything look warm and inviting. Each painting I passed seemed to tell a story, but I couldn’t stop to admire them for long. I could still hear the distant voices and sounds, and they were growing louder, clearer with every movement I made.

I reached the end of the hallway, where a large wooden door stood. The voices were coming from behind it, louder now, clearer. I could hear people talking, laughing, and the occasional clinking of something metal. My heart raced with excitement. I wanted to see who was on the other side of the door. Maybe Dad was there, or someone else I hadn’t met yet.

But just as I was about to push against the door with my tiny hands, a familiar voice rang out from behind me.

"ALEX!"

The sound of my mother’s voice made me freeze in place. It wasn’t an angry voice, but there was something in it that told me I was doing something I shouldn’t be. I turned my head to look back, and there she was, running toward me, her eyes wide with a mix of relief and panic. She moved so fast, faster than I had ever seen her move before.

I turned back to the door. I could feel the voices and sounds calling to me, almost like a song pulling me forward. I wanted to open the door, to see what was waiting for me on the other side. I wanted to be a part of whatever was happening in that room.

And then, that familiar warm feeling rose inside me—the same feeling that had opened the door to my room, the same feeling that made my mobile spin. It was like an itch just beneath my skin, a soft hum that made the air around me seem lighter. Without thinking, I stretched out my hand toward the door, and with a soft whoosh, it began to open.

The door creaked as it moved, revealing a sliver of the room beyond. I could see shapes—figures moving, the flicker of light reflecting off something shiny. I could hear the voices more clearly now, the laughter and chatter spilling out into the hallway.

But before I could crawl through the doorway, my mother’s arms wrapped around me, pulling me back. I let out a surprised squeal as she scooped me up, holding me close to her chest. Her breath was heavy, and I could feel her heart pounding as she hugged me tight.

"Alex," she said, her voice a mix of relief and sternness. "You can’t just run away from me like that."

I blinked up at her, my tiny hands resting against her shoulder. I didn’t understand why she was upset, why she had stopped me from exploring. The hallway, the door, the sounds—they had all seemed so inviting, so full of adventure. But now, in her arms, I could feel the weight of her worry, the way her arms clung to me like she was afraid to let go.

She turned back toward the hallway, carrying me away from the door I had opened with the Force. As we moved further from it, the voices and sounds grew faint again, until they were nothing more than a distant memory. I rested my head against her shoulder, my eyes drooping with the sudden wave of exhaustion that always seemed to follow after I used the Force.

My mother’s voice softened as she kissed the top of my head, her fingers brushing through my hair. "You’re too little to be wandering off on your own," she murmured. "You’re going to give me a heart attack one of these days."

I didn’t fully understand her words, but I knew they meant she loved me. That was enough. I closed my eyes, letting the steady rhythm of her footsteps lull me into a peaceful calm. The hallway, the door, the strange man—all of it faded into the background as I drifted

off to sleep, safe in my mother’s arms once more.