The Force pulses like a beating heart, thumping away at a point between your hands. You watch as energy surges in and out, strong but erratic in nature.

Disappointing. Ever so disappointing. You let the energy fade as Master Nu looks on with a frown. You’re obviously doing it wrong. The Force should flow smoothly, gathering in strength before spreading out to soothe the body and mind. Force Cleanse is a difficult beast to handle, though not entirely different from Force Purification.

All the Force techniques are inherently similar, after all. You draw on the Force for everything, and thus you are intimately familiar with the connection you have to it. It is comforting, almost like a warm blanket, yet not entirely. Gone are the days when you felt suffocated by its presence. Though you still struggle with the Force at times, such as now, it is never as bad as the worst days in your past.

You have grown closer to the Force — more attuned to it — with all the training you have done. Learning Force Stanch, Force Purification, and especially Force Sight have helped greatly. After all, how could you possibly feel disconnected from it when you can see it all around you? And so, even if a technique, like Force Cleanse, eludes you for a time, you are not frustrated. No! How could you be? That would be childish!

You relax your fist and stop trying to dig a hole into the floor with the toe of your boot. Relax… Relax.

“How about a short break?”

You look up as Master Nu puts a plate of fruit on the desk next to you, then shake your head. No! You’ll get this right, then you’ll eat! You stretch your arms out again, pulling on the Force as you do. It flows, reticent but ultimately still willing, and yet a few minutes of concentration yields nothing but a tangle of mangled technique.

You let it go, then reach out for another attempt.

“Xena…”

The Force gathers, but feels even more surly than before. With an almost audible pop, your concentration lapses as the Force snaps away and returns to its gentle flow through the world around you.

… You really want to punch something right now.

“Xena. Come here.”

Master Nu’s stern voice demands your attention and you immediately move to follow her command. You look up at her — a polite habit to keep, as Master Lasah recommended following some questioning — and ask, “What?”

“Youngling, there is no need to rush. Slow down. Eat something.”

The desk shakes and fruit spills onto the floor. Master Nu looks on, face impassive but inwardly her disappointment in you clouds her thoughts and emotions. After a moment, she bends down and starts picking up the dropped food while you stand there shaking in… anger?

You don’t know what emotion you feel. You feel… better, and worse at the same time.

Better, because you did what you wanted to do — you punched something: the table. But worse, as you certainly regret your action. Your hand hurts and your cheeks seem to burn too.

I’m sorry.

You want to say it, but instead you just stand there, paralyzed in shame, as Master Nu piles the fruits onto a napkin and places them to the side.

What must she think of you?

A freak? A failure? A brat.

No, she wouldn’t think that! Right? But, if she does, you deserve it.

“Xena, it’s alright.”

Gentle words worm their way into your ears, but you don’t let them reach your heart. You hunch down burying your head into your arms, and tilt over to rest against the front of the floor-length desk.

“Xena, look at me.”

No.

“I know you don’t even need to actually look up to see me, and I also know you’re not bothering to do even that.”

I’m sorry.

“I forgive you.”

You look. How can you not, when you always see all? You turn your head, following lines of absent light and see a blazing soul.

Jocasta Nu.

She’s warm and stern and wise and deceitful and tired and happy and confident and so much more, but one trait of hers stands out above all. She learns. She is always learning, hungry for knowledge. It is an old trait of hers, but you see it scarred — weathered with age and once-upon-a-time struck away for an ancient, unknown reason. She regained it recently — that insatiable curiosity — for one reason.

You.

Your warp-eye shuts, clearing away that blinding light, and all you see is her: an old Master. Your Order’s Chief Librarian. A mentor and teacher, forgiving of childish children like you.

“I’m sorry,” you finally say.

“It’s just some fruit. I can wash it again. Now, come. I think you really do need a break.”

≡][≡ ⬦⬦⬦ ≡][≡

“Would you like a stool?”

“I’m fine,” you say, then cringe at your curt answer. Short, perhaps rude, but what’s said is said and you’ve already apologized.

You stand on your toes and reach up to turn on the sink, but your fingers fall short of the lever. Good thing you’re a Jedi. The faucet flicks on with an application of Force and you start rinsing off the fruit.

You stand in the small kitchen adjacent to the Archives. This is where Master Nu and other staff and associates of the Archive can make and store their food. A break room, really. Right now, it’s empty other than you and Master Nu, and you find another conflict in your feelings. Would it be better to have others here to make the situation less awkward, or is it better as it is without an audience for your eventual conversation.

This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

You do not know.

You rinse the fruit, one at a time. Each one is about the size of your fist with a thin green skin and the leafy remnants of a stem. You haven’t had this kind before.

You place the fruits, five total, into a bowl Master Nu gave you, then carry them to a short table where she now sits. As you push the bowl toward the center of the table, she looks on, a small smile on her wrinkled face, content and happy under the surface.

Why? Because she’s seen it all. You’re not the first Youngling to throw a tantrum, and you won’t be the last. However, even knowing that, the shame at your outburst still persists in the back of your mind. It’s something that you’re sure won’t go away for a while, even after a night’s sleep.

“Xena, it really is alright.”

You jump at her voice, startled by her apparent mind reading capability. That’s not fair, you’re the one with telepathy!

“How—”

“I can guess.” The corners of her mouth, already upturned, curl upwards even more. She plucks fruit out of the bowl and takes a bite, crunching away and savoring the flavor. She gestures, urging you to take one too.

It’s sweet and light, the taste flitting to the root of your tongue as the juices flow past. You lean backward and sink into your seat, doing your best to relax despite the thoughts still surging in your mind.

“It’s been a while since I saw your face. Your ‘eyes’ really aren’t too bad.”

“Huh?”

She points at your mask, now on the table — it’s not as if you can eat with it in the way. Your eyes, just like your mouth, are open. A habit. You close them and Master Nu chuckles, placing the seeded core of her fruit down.

“I’ve met many Younglings, Xena. No matter how different you are, you’re still a child and you’ll still face problems like everyone else. It’s part of growing up. Getting frustrated at a repetitive task is a common issue. Even I fall prey to it sometimes!”

“But, you control yourself.”

“Yes. With age comes wisdom and self-possession. I am, hopefully not old, but I have certainly seen and made many a mistake in my own rather long life. I too have punched things in frustration, and I have learned my lessons. It hurts to punch hard objects and hitting other people tends to be an even worse idea. Let go of the anger as soon as you can, but not in a violent manner.”

“I… I understand.”

Another gentle smile greets your answer.

“Good. Now, perhaps we should speak of something else. Lingering on a sour topic spoils the taste. Is there anything you would like to tell me or ask me?”

You think for a moment, then nod.

“I’m lucky, I think. Master Corr has offered to take me on as a Padawan already, so long as I pass the Trials. Master Lasah has given me the chance I need to prove myself to the Council, and has told me she will also take me on as a Padawan if I succeed.”

“That’s great!” Master Nu exclaims indulgently.

“The problem is, I don’t really know who I would want to be my Master. I like them both.”

“Hm. That is indeed a dilemma. It’s a good one to have though.”

You nod, mouth too full with fruit to respond. It really is good, both the fruit and the problem you have. To have two Master Jedi offer you an apprenticeship before you even take your Trials is nothing short of amazing.

“If you really want to get technical, what you need to do is come up with a list of criteria you would like in a Master, then rate the two of them against it. Otherwise, just think about what you want to do in the future, and pick the Master more likely to help you accomplish that.”

What do you want to do? You’ve looked forward to becoming a Padawan for your whole life, but from what you’ve learned, the Service Corps is also a worthwhile pursuit. Of course, there’s a third option, leaving the Order, but how can you even consider that?

“Thank you, Master Nu. I’ll have to think about that.”

“You’re most welcome. Now, I believe we have some work to get back to.”

“I… yes. Sorry.”

“No more apologizing, Youngling. We can move on. Now, let’s go.”

≡][≡ ⬦⬦⬦ ≡][≡

You find Tera idly doodling on a datapad in the common area following your lesson. Her finger traces over the screen, but you cannot really see what she’s drawn. That’s the downside of Force Sight, you suppose: you have trouble seeing images on screens. Apparently, Master Lasah, with her decades of experience, can perceive such things — holograms and writings on screens or paper. You, however, simply need more time before you can do the same.

“Hi, Tera.”

She jerks in surprise, evidently not having noticed your presence.

“Huh? Oh, Xena! Where’ve you been?”

“Lessons. Extra training with Master Nu.”

“Oh, right. I forgot you had that at this time. You always have things going on.” She pouts, cheeks puffing up like a rodent’s. Maybe you should spend more time with her. Well, you’re here now.

“Yeah… Anyway, I wanted to ask you something.”

She sits up, curiosity sparkling in her soul.

“What is it?”

“Have you thought about what you want to do as a Padawan? Or, as a Knight?”

“Oh, sure! Plenty! Saving people, beating up bad guys, being super cool!”

“That’s… great? But, not really what I meant.”

Her mouth quirks, twitching into the beginning of a grin. She pats the chair next to her, then pulls you down to sit when you don’t move quickly enough.

“So, what do you mean?”

“I - I don’t really know…” you trail off with a sigh. “Is there anything — a goal or something — that you have? Something specific, like: become a Knight dedicated to educating others. Or, learn all the healing techniques and be the best healer ever!”

“Hmm. Yeah. Give me a second to think about it.”

The two of you sit in companionable silence. She taps her finger as she thinks, ideas swirling in a turbulent flow and emotions reflecting the pattern like a mirror above a lake. Deeper strands of thought dwell in her head, surfacing for air at times. She grasps at them, pulling them into a semblance of logic, and tying them together as best she can. She blooms in satisfaction, and then presents the bouquet to you.

“I’ve got it! Or, I kind of have something. I want to be the next battlemaster!”

“Really?”

“Yes!”

“Uh, you’ve got a long way to go.”

“Hey! I… I know. It’s a big ask, isn’t it? But, it doesn’t hurt to dream big, right? I mean, look at you. You’re already learning so many techniques — you’ve already learned so many techniques! If you can do something so amazing, why can’t I?”

She leans back and crosses her arms, staring far off, past the ceiling, as she continues to speak her mind.

“I do have a lot of work to do if I want to be on Master Drallig or Master Windu’s level, but I think it’s doable. They had to start from somewhere, right?”

“Right.”

“So why can’t I start now? I already have the basics down, probably better than most of the others. I just need to find and learn from a Master that’s also good at lightsaber combat. And, that means I just need to do well at the next Tournament. I can do that!”

She raises her hands to the air above her in preemptive triumph, then turns that into a lengthy stretch.

“I guess that’s as good a plan as any.”

“Yeah. Thanks, Xena. What about you? What do you want to do?”

That’s the question, isn’t it? What do you want to do? What do you aspire to be?