“Um, actually, can I help?” you say, pivoting on your foot and turning back around. “You’ve taught me a lot already, so can I help with the healing?”

Master Corr looks up at you, then leans back, crossing her arms in thought. Finally, she says, “Alright. I’ll take you up on that. However, this will be difficult. You only fully know two relevant techniques, and I can’t let you use Force Healing until I’m sure you’re fully trained in that. You’re also unfamiliar with procedures around here. If you really do want to help, then you’ll need to have proper training. I can’t spare the time at the moment, so I’ll ask someone to show you the ropes. After that, I’ll have you assist me directly. Does that sound alright to you?”

You nod your head, having already made up your mind. “Yes. I’ll make myself useful.”

“Good. Thank you, Xena,” she says, smiling at last. It’s a small, sad smile — her typical buoyant tone having been weighed down by stress and grief. It’s so unlike her that it almost hurts to see it, but you make do as you’re sure it hurts far more for her.

“It… um. It’ll be alright, Master,” you say on a whim. “It hurts now, but it’ll get better. That’s how it always works, right? I’ll help you through it, just like how you helped me.” You look down awkwardly, a habit of embarrassment, useless now that your eyes don’t do anything. Everything feels terrible. Seeing Master Corr so weighed down by it all somehow makes it worse.

However, at your words, she does seem to brighten up just a bit — the corners of her mouth turning upwards by a fraction and the fog of stress and sorrow fading just a bit from her soul. “Thanks, Xena. But, no matter how odd your injuries were, they were mostly physical and were mostly cured with medicine. Those are a lot easier to fix than what ails me.”

“I know. That just means I just need to try really hard!”

A bigger smile is your reward. Then, she waves your hand at you in a shooing motion. “Alrighty then, I’ll be counting on you. Now, get going! I’ve got work to do. Stop by again in a couple hours. I’ll have someone here to show you what to do. Ah, right; the work I give you may not be all to do with healing. There’s only so much you can do with Stanch and Purification after all. I’ll probably have you helping me run errands or fill out— ah fiddlesticks. Right, you can’t see… In those cases, I’ll need you to find a place to work so you can take your headband off.”

She stops, thinking for a second more, then shakes her head. “That’s all. Thanks again, Xena. I’ll see you soon.”

“See you.”

You slip out the door, then start walking back down the hallway. You did good there. You’ll be useful and you definitely made her feel a bit better. But, there’s others you need to talk to now.

You haven’t seen Master Lasah today, but you know she wasn’t part of the strike force since you’d seen her briefly yesterday. You’ll need to see how she’s feeling and if she needs help too.

≡][≡ ⬦⬦⬦ ≡][≡

Master Lasah is, surprisingly, training on her own. Or, at least it looks like it.

A lonely figure stands in the courtyard below the Temple’s central Spire, lightsaber held before her and blazing away under the midday sun. You’re about to call out to her, but then, in one smooth motion, she swings her saber in a complex pattern, creating a fan of evanescent energy before her. It's a salute, you realize. A classical salute, seemingly directed to the ancient tree in the center of the yard.

She swings it about again, raising it above her head, swift and strong. Then, as suddenly as she began the move, she freezes in place.

She holds the pose, then transitions out of it in slower, smoother motions, straight into another pose. Then she does it again. She moves in brief bursts of energy, pausing and slowing in between. As you watch, you are enthralled at the sight. It’s… not exactly efficient, but it’s graceful.

It’s like a dance.

The makings of a storm rumble within her, threatening to burst into full form. However, as she continues to flow through her motions, you can see wisps of Force flowing in and out of her, soothing the nascent tempest within. She continues on for long, long minutes, sometimes pausing in positions that look particularly strenuous to maintain. Sweat beads along her limbs and face, but she never fully stops nor deigns to even consider taking off her long trailing robe.

She continues, dancing on and on, slowly shedding the traces of frustration and anger built up within her. But, despite the fatigue she clearly feels, she ignores it all, focusing purely on the pain inside.

You feel a tug on your body and you realize that you’ve been slowly walking toward her. Her will pulls on you gently, bringing you to her side. With the slightest of nudges and the encouragement of the Force, you pull out your own lightsaber and ignite it, then mimic her stance.

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A heartbeat later, you move.

Your breaths match the pulse of the Force billowing out from the courtyard tree. When Master Lasah moves, you move. When she swings, you swing. Together, the two of you weave a complex dance — one you know you’ll never be able to replicate again.

Master Lasah bears a stony facade, reinforced by the mask she wears. She weathers the storms of time, gritting her teeth and plowing her way through the waves of grief and sorrow. However, they still crash upon her; and over time, they wear away at the face she shows the world.

And so, she sometimes must clean and repair it — casting away the worldly muck that taints her soul with the cleansing brush of the Force, then putting it all back together again.

You flow from form to form. Sometimes it’s reminiscent of one of the lightsaber Forms you have learned, other times it’s a purely theatrical stance that serves no other purpose than to be fun. You didn’t know Master Lasah even knew how to have fun…

The longer you go, the more tired you get. And yet, you don’t want to stop. You can feel it — a lightening of life, a reinstatement of joy! But, you know it cannot last. You know its source: Master Lasah’s subtle use of Battle Meditation. It’s a moving meditation in practice.

Finally, you swing about, guided by Master Lasah’s unseen hand. You face her and she faces you, though neither of you see the other. As one, you salute each other with one last flourish of the blade, then bow.

And then smile.

“Master,” you start off, “I actually came here to ask you if you wanted any help with anything. Is there anything I can do for you?”

“Thank you, Xena.” she says in a quiet voice. “More hands means a lighter load. Just joining me was more than enough. I hope that helped you too.”

“It did. What was that?”

“Moving meditation, as you guessed.”

“You heard me?”

“Faintly. A breeze in the mind, connected to me as you were by the Force. Well, it is not exactly moving meditation, but I used to do this with friends to clear my own mind. I refer to it in that way for convenience. It is… a dance.”

“I see. Well, I’ll get going now. Thanks again, Master.”

“A pleasure,” she says with a final bow.

≡][≡ ⬦⬦⬦ ≡][≡

Well, you’ve now talked with Master Corr and Master Lasah and discovered their ways of coping. They both felt… disrupted. Neither of them, despite being fully-fledged Masters, could fully hold the pain of such loss at bay. Not forever, and certainly not alone. Actually, now that you think about it, how do you feel?

Not very good. Confused, really; even after your dance with Master Lasah. A confused flurry of emotions, numbing you from the inside. There’s just so much, choking you up and preventing you from really feeling any one thing.

What kind of Jedi are you? You… It’s just so much. How do you let it go?

You’ve seen the other Masters. Some of them feel almost empty, having expertly navigated the tricks and traps of this perpetually evolving maze. Others are simply suppressing their emotions, outwardly holding a facade of self-control. Others are in between, slowly dealing with it all while projecting a feeling of self-possession.

You’ll have to find your own way: a path of your own through this winding maze.

The wide halls of the Temple are nearly empty. Many Jedi have practically been paralyzed by their grief, resulting in their retreat to their rooms so they can meditate the feelings away. Others, like Master Corr, are just so busy with associated work that they can’t leave their posts. Others still, let the pain wash over them, breaking through it like a rock in the waves, or even riding over it like a maritime vessel. And yet, there are so many others — so many more ways of dealing with the grief you can’t name them all.

You sigh, annoyed at the loop in thought you’ve come about. Drowning yourself in work is clearly one way to push away the sadness until another day, but you can tell it piles up. Just looking at Master Corr showed you that.

Hey, maybe you should become a grief counselor or something? You’ve heard of professions like that. Well, you don’t know what to say in all cases though. You just did your best with Master Corr.

It’s just… it doesn’t seem healthy to bottle it all in. At some point, people will probably start to explode. You’ve literally seen it before: the mounting frustration filling someone up like a pressure cooker, going off at just the wrong moment. It’s even happened to you!

You stagger forwards, exhausted from your exercise with Master Lasah. You’d been at it for almost an entire hour! You’re so weary that you accidentally scuff your foot on the wide carpet, almost causing you to trip before you catch yourself against the foot of a large column. You look up, tracing the cylinder with your Force Sight as it reaches up to the high ceiling above.

The cumulative grief of the Temple is thick, rising up in almost tangible clouds. Hopefully, with time, it will fade away.

You lean your back against the pillar, sliding down until you’re sitting on the floor, legs splayed out ahead of you. You take off your mask, letting the breeze generated by the rare passersby brush across your face, and bask in the sunlight dripping through the windows. With your eyes closed, you look like any other Initiate, taking a brief nap at midday.

The sound of tears boiling away quietly echoes across the hall, but you don’t open your eyes.

Not yet. Let the pressure build.

A minute later, you flutter your eyelids open for a second, letting the steam blow away, shimmering in an unseen sunbeam. You rub the remaining tears away, then stand up. That’s enough for now. You’ll let the rest out later.

Mask back on, you continue, heading back toward Master Corr’s office.

The war has just begun and the worst is yet to come.

Arc 2 End