Soon after the battle, the Jedi Council and the newly elected Supreme Chancellor Palpatine arrived in Theed. Palpatine, with his ever-pleasant yet unsettling demeanor, paused briefly as he looked upon Anakin and Kieran. His smile deepened as he said, “I shall watch your careers with great interest.” Though his words were directed at Anakin, Kieran felt a chill run down his spine. He clenched his jaw but said nothing as Palpatine turned and strode away, leaving to greet Queen Amidala and the others.

Later, Obi-Wan followed Master Yoda into a small, quiet chamber within the palace. The ancient Jedi’s ears twitched as he walked back and forth, his cane tapping lightly against the smooth floor. Obi-Wan knelt respectfully before him, his head bowed.

Yoda’s voice was low, tinged with weariness and caution. “Confer on you the level of Jedi Knight, the Council does. But agree with your taking this boy as your Padawan learner, I do not.”

Obi-Wan raised his head, his voice calm but resolute. “Master Yoda, Qui-Gon believed in him.”

Yoda let out a slow, thoughtful sigh. “The Chosen One, the boy may be. Nevertheless, grave danger I sense in his training. And another—Kieran. Strong in the Force, he is. Yet troubled, his path remains.”

Obi-Wan’s face hardened with quiet determination. “Master Yoda, I gave Qui-Gon my word. I will train both of them.”

Yoda stopped pacing, turning to fix Obi-Wan with a long, searching look. “Without the approval of the Council, if you must?”

Obi-Wan nodded, his resolve unshaken. “If I must.”

Yoda narrowed his eyes, his ears flattening slightly. “Qui-Gon’s defiance I sense in you. Need that, you do not.” The elder Jedi shook his head with a deep sigh, as though the weight of the galaxy rested on his small shoulders. “But agree with you, the Council does. Your apprentices, both of them will be.”

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In the days that followed, the Council formally acknowledged the events on Naboo. A somber air hung over their meeting as Yoda and Mace Windu addressed Kieran directly. Kieran stood before them, his hands folded in front of him.

“Defeated a Sith Lord, you have,” Yoda said, his large eyes scrutinizing Kieran’s every move. “A trial of skill, that was. And faced great loss, you have. A trial of spirit, that was.”

Mace Windu leaned forward slightly, his tone measured but serious. “By all accounts, you’ve faced and passed the trials, Kieran. You’ve shown skill, resilience, and courage that exceed your training. Many would argue that you deserve the title of Jedi Knight.”

Kieran’s eyes flicked between the two Masters. He was honored by their words, but he could feel there was more to come.

“But,” Yoda continued, “a Jedi, you have only been for eight months. Much to learn, you still have.”

Mace nodded. “You’ve demonstrated extraordinary talent, Kieran. But talent alone does not make a Jedi Knight. True mastery comes with time—through patience and reflection.”

“We recognize your unique path,” Yoda added, his tone softening slightly. “When the time is right, Knighted you will be. No trials need you face. Earned, your title already is. But remain a Padawan, for now, you will.”

Kieran took a deep breath, absorbing their words. “I understand, Masters,” he said, bowing his head. Though part of him burned with frustration, he knew better than to let it show.

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The flames danced high into the Naboo night as the funeral pyre burned. Qui-Gon’s body lay at rest, consumed by the fire as the gathering watched in reverent silence. Among those present were Jar Jar Binks, Boss Nass, Chancellor Palpatine, Queen Amidala, Kieran, Obi-Wan, Anakin, and the Jedi Council. Each face bore a different expression—grief, respect, reflection.

Kieran stood beside Obi-Wan and Anakin, his hands clasped tightly in front of him. His gaze remained locked on the flames, his thoughts a turbulent mix of sorrow and guilt. He had fought alongside Qui-Gon, had trusted his wisdom, and now that steady presence was gone. The silence of the Force where Qui-Gon’s presence had once been felt like a void Kieran couldn’t ignore.

At the back of the gathering, Yoda and Mace Windu spoke in hushed tones.

“There’s no doubt,” Mace said grimly, his dark eyes fixed on the burning pyre. “The warrior was a Sith.”

Yoda’s ears twitched as he nodded solemnly. “Always two there are. No more, no less. A master... and an apprentice.”

Mace’s brow furrowed, his voice quieter but no less troubled. “But which was destroyed? The master or the apprentice?”

Neither had an answer, and their words trailed off into the somber crackle of the fire.

----------------------------------------

The following day, the air on Naboo was transformed. The somber mood of the funeral gave way to jubilant celebration. The entire city of Theed seemed to come alive with music, banners, and a renewed sense of hope. Gungan warriors and Naboo citizens alike filled the streets, cheering and laughing together as though the wounds of the invasion had already begun to heal.

Even Kieran and Obi-Wan found themselves swept up in the mood, their earlier grief momentarily replaced by the infectious joy of victory. For the first time since the battle, Kieran allowed himself to smile, though the weight of recent events still lingered beneath the surface.

At the grand ceremony, Queen Amidala stood alongside Boss Nass, holding aloft a ceremonial orb that symbolized the newly formed alliance between the Naboo and the Gungans. The cheers that erupted from the crowd were deafening, a testament to the unity that had been forged through hardship.

Anakin stood near the back of the platform, his wide eyes taking in the spectacle. For a moment, he seemed to forget his nerves, caught up in the sheer wonder of the celebration. Kieran stood beside him, one hand resting lightly on the boy’s shoulder.

“This is what we fought for,” Kieran said softly, his tone a mixture of pride and exhaustion. “A chance for peace.”

Anakin nodded, his young face filled with both awe and determination. “Do you think Master Qui-Gon would be proud?”

Kieran glanced toward Obi-Wan, who was speaking quietly with Yoda near the edge of the platform. His mismatched eyes then returned to Anakin, and he smiled faintly. “I think he already is.”

As the music swelled and the crowd cheered, the two stood together, watching as the dawn of a new chapter for Naboo began. But in the back of Kieran’s mind, a lingering unease remained—a quiet whisper of the challenges that lay ahead.

For now, though, they celebrated.

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The following day, Kieran stood alone in the gardens of Theed, the cool breeze tugging at the edges of his robe. His purple-bladed lightsaber rested in his hand, the hum of the weapon filling the air as he practiced slow, deliberate sequences of Makashi. The precision of Form II had always suited him, offering a balance of elegance and control that felt natural to him.

But Kieran’s mastery of Makashi—and his proficiency in Ataru and Djem So—had not come from formal training. Qui-Gon, for all his wisdom, had deliberately focused only on the basics, teaching him Form I, Shii-Cho, just as he had with Obi-Wan. Qui-Gon had always believed that mastery of the fundamentals was more valuable than flashy techniques or advanced forms.

Kieran, however, had been restless. He had learned by watching—observing Obi-Wan’s Ataru sequences, studying the holorecords of Form II duelists, and memorizing the fluid aggression of Djem So from his visions of the dark version of himself. Every form he knew beyond Shii-Cho had been self-taught, cobbled together from his natural talent, sheer determination, and the eerie clarity of his fragmented memories. He knew the stances, the movements, and even the weaknesses of these forms, but he lacked the refinement that came with formal instruction.

He turned off his lightsaber, staring at the hilt for a long moment. Qui-Gon’s green saber sat beside him, now a reminder of how he'd failed despite knowing the future.

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The late afternoon sun cast golden light across the palace courtyard as Kieran and Obi-Wan faced each other, their lightsabers ignited and humming with energy. Obi-Wan's blue blade was held in a classic Soresu stance—feet firmly planted, blade angled in a tight, defensive position. Across from him, Kieran stood loose and fluid, his purple blade angled low in a Makashi duelist’s guard.

“Don’t hold back,” Obi-Wan said, a hint of a challenge in his voice.

Kieran smirked, twirling his blade once before settling into position. “Careful what you wish for.”

Without further warning, Kieran darted forward. His first strike was a precise thrust aimed directly at Obi-Wan’s shoulder—a classic Makashi opening. Obi-Wan caught the strike with his blade, rotating his wrist to redirect the energy and deflect Kieran’s follow-up slash. Kieran didn’t miss a beat, twisting his body into a smooth Ataru-style spin, his blade arcing toward Obi-Wan’s flank.

Obi-Wan stepped back, his blue blade forming an impenetrable shield as he absorbed the blow with a controlled block. “You’re quick,” he admitted, countering with a quick jab that forced Kieran to sidestep.

"And you're careful," Kieran shot back, pressing the attack with a flurry of elegant strikes. Kenobi was only using Soresu, and he knew that was the only reason he had the upper hand. If he was using his old Ataru, they would be equally matched in combat.

“You’re too stiff,” Kieran remarked, withdrawing for a moment before darting in again. This time, his strikes came faster, switching into Ataru’s sweeping acrobatics. He spun low, his blade arcing toward Obi-Wan’s legs, then flipped over his opponent, slashing down toward his shoulder as he landed.

Obi-Wan barely managed to block the low sweep and stumbled as he turned to parry the overhead strike. “Maybe you could stop talking long enough to let me focus!” he snapped, backing away as he reset his stance.

Kieran grinned, pressing forward. “Focus under pressure, Obi-Wan. That’s the point!”

The purple blade slashed again and again, each strike growing heavier as Kieran shifted into Djem So’s raw power. Obi-Wan met the barrage head-on, his blue blade forming a tight, spinning defense that deflected most of the attacks. But each block pushed him back a step, his arms trembling under the force of Kieran’s strikes.

“Don’t just block—redirect!” Kieran said, his movements relentless. “If you keep this up, I’ll wear you down.”

“I’m working on it!” Obi-Wan shot back, deflecting a downward slash with a hard parry that left his arms shaking. He tried to counter with a quick jab, but Kieran sidestepped easily, his blade snapping out to tap Obi-Wan’s shoulder.

“Got you,” Kieran said smugly, stepping back to give Obi-Wan a moment to recover.

Obi-Wan groaned in frustration, rubbing his shoulder where the saber’s training setting had left a light sting. “Soresu is harder than it looks. How am I supposed to stay calm when you’re practically trying to break me in half?”

“That’s the whole point of Soresu,” Kieran said, deactivating his blade for a moment. “You’re not supposed to meet aggression with aggression—you’re supposed to let it slide off you, redirect it like water around a rock.”

Obi-Wan raised an eyebrow. “And you’re supposed to be the expert on this?”

Kieran shrugged. “Not at all. My forms are all about overwhelming people, not defending against them. But that’s why I’m helping you. If you can hold me off, you can hold anyone off.” He reignited his blade, gesturing for Obi-Wan to take his stance. “Now, again. We'll be going back to Coruscant soon so you can learn with Battlemaster Cin Drallig. For now, you'll have to make do with me.”

"Oh, lucky me," Obi-Wan muttered before reigniting his lightsaber at the lowest setting.

The sparring resumed, and Kieran immediately came at Obi-Wan with greater intensity. His strikes were wild and varied, switching between Makashi’s precision, Ataru’s speed, and Djem So’s power in unpredictable combinations. Obi-Wan struggled to keep up, his blue blade moving frantically as he tried to block every attack. It was simply too much for his new master to defend against.

“Stop blocking every single strike!” Kieran barked, his blade slashing toward Obi-Wan’s side. “Angle your blade—redirect!”

Obi-Wan managed to deflect the strike, guiding Kieran’s blade harmlessly to the side. But the effort left him open, and Kieran spun into another Ataru-style leap, landing a light blow on Obi-Wan’s ribs.

“You’re overthinking,” Kieran said, stepping back again. His tone was less teasing now, more instructive. “You’re trying to fight like me, but that’s not Soresu. You don’t need to outmatch my speed or strength—you just need to outlast me.”

This time, when Kieran came at him, Obi-Wan didn’t try to block every strike head-on. He let Kieran’s blade glance off his own, redirecting the energy with minimal effort. His movements became tighter, more efficient, as he focused on creating a defensive flow rather than matching Kieran’s aggression.

Kieran pushed harder, throwing in feints and spins to break Obi-Wan’s rhythm. But the blue blade held firm, deflecting each strike with increasing confidence. Obi-Wan was still taking steps back, but now his movements were deliberate, controlled, rather than the desperate backpedaling from before.

“Better,” Kieran said, circling around to Obi-Wan’s side. He struck with a heavy Djem So overhead slash, but Obi-Wan angled his blade perfectly, letting the strike slide harmlessly to the side. “See? You’re starting to get it.”

Obi-Wan didn’t respond—he was too focused on maintaining his flow. For the first time since they’d started sparring, he felt a sense of calm amid the chaos. He wasn’t trying to match Kieran’s speed or power anymore—he was letting the Force guide him, letting it flow through him as he redirected each attack.

But his progress was far from perfect. When Kieran switched back to Ataru, leaping into an acrobatic strike, Obi-Wan hesitated for just a moment too long. Kieran’s blade tapped his wrist, and he let out a frustrated sigh, stepping back.

“That hesitation will get you killed,” Kieran said, deactivating his blade.

Obi-Wan glared at him, shaking out his wrist. “And your overconfidence will get you killed.”

Kieran smirked. “Fair enough.” He clipped his saber to his belt, his tone softening. “You’re getting there, Obi-Wan. It’s not going to happen in a day, but I can see the improvement.”

Obi-Wan sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “You’re right. Soresu’s going to take time. But I’ll admit, sparring against you is... effective. Exhausting, but effective.”

Kieran laughed. “That’s the idea. You’re training to outlast people like me, so I’m giving you the real thing.”

Obi-Wan gave a small nod, a faint smile tugging at his lips. “Thanks, Kieran. For pushing me.”

“Anytime,” Kieran said, clapping Obi-Wan on the shoulder.

They stood in silence for a moment, catching their breath as the sun dipped lower in the sky.

As the light in the courtyard softened to a warm orange hue, Kieran turned to Obi-Wan, an idea forming in his mind. “You know,” he began, his voice thoughtful, “Soresu might be all about defense, but that doesn’t mean you can’t turn it into something more.”

Obi-Wan raised an eyebrow. “What do you mean?”

Kieran gestured with his hands, his purple blade still hanging loosely at his belt. “You’re already proficient in Ataru. It’s how you’ve been fighting for years, right? You’ve got the speed, the agility, the instinct to press an advantage. So, why not combine it?”

“Combine it?” Obi-Wan’s brow furrowed as he mulled over the suggestion. “Soresu and Ataru? They’re practically opposites.”

“Exactly,” Kieran said, his tone sharper now, as though the challenge of explaining this energized him. “But think about it. Ataru is aggressive, unpredictable. It overwhelms your opponent, keeps them on the defensive. But what happens when someone can withstand that? They’ll outlast you, just like I would if you kept trying to push me with Ataru alone.”

This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

Obi-Wan crossed his arms, watching Kieran intently. “And Soresu fixes that by letting me defend until they wear themselves out.”

Kieran nodded. “Right. Soresu is about endurance, surviving the storm. But what if, once you’ve got them on edge, you don’t just wait for an opening—you create one? You bait them into overextending while defending, then switch to Ataru’s speed to exploit it. You’d be untouchable.”

Obi-Wan tilted his head, skepticism lingering in his expression. “It sounds... chaotic. Switching between two completely different approaches like that.”

“It is chaotic,” Kieran admitted with a grin. “That’s the point. Imagine fighting someone who’s like water when you’re trying to strike, absorbing and redirecting everything you throw at them. Then, the moment you slip, they strike like lightning—fast, aggressive, and overwhelming. That’s what you could be.”

Obi-Wan didn’t answer immediately, his gaze drifting toward the horizon as he considered the concept. The thought of blending two fundamentally different forms intrigued him, but he knew it wouldn’t be easy. Soresu required absolute control, while Ataru thrived on momentum and improvisation. Combining them would demand a level of precision and mastery he wasn’t sure he could achieve.

“I don’t know,” Obi-Wan said finally, though his voice lacked the certainty of rejection. “It sounds... ambitious.”

Kieran smirked, folding his arms. “You’re saying that like ambition is a bad thing.”

“It’s not,” Obi-Wan countered quickly, his tone firm. “But it can be dangerous if it makes you reckless.”

Kieran shrugged. “Dangerous, sure. But you’re not reckless, Obi-Wan. That’s not who you are. You’re disciplined. You think things through. If anyone can pull this off, it’s you.”

Obi-Wan exhaled slowly, his lips quirking into a reluctant smile. “I suppose it’s worth considering. After all, if I’m going to master Soresu, I might as well make it my own.”

“That’s the spirit,” Kieran said, giving him a playful nudge. “And when you do pull it off, just remember who gave you the idea.”

“Don’t worry,” Obi-Wan said dryly. “I’ll be sure to credit your incessant talking when the Council asks how I developed it.”

Kieran laughed, a genuine, warm sound that cut through the fading tension in the air. “You’re welcome, Master Kenobi.”

Obi-Wan rolled his eyes, but the faint smile remained on his face. For all of Kieran’s rough edges and unconventional ideas, he couldn’t deny that the younger Jedi had a way of pushing him to think differently—and to push himself harder.

The two fell into a companionable silence, their gazes drifting to the horizon where the sun was dipping below the distant hills. The breeze carried the faint scent of Theed’s gardens, the soft rustle of leaves adding to the tranquility of the moment.

“You know,” Obi-Wan said after a while, his tone quieter now, “I think Qui-Gon would’ve approved of this.”

Kieran glanced at him, his expression softening. “The training?”

“No,” Obi-Wan replied with a faint chuckle. “Well, maybe. But I meant... this. Us. Working together like this.”

Kieran didn’t respond immediately, his thoughts drifting to the memory of Qui-Gon’s steady presence. “Yeah,” he said softly. “He would’ve.”

For a moment, they both stood there, the weight of the past few days settling over them. Qui-Gon’s absence was still a fresh wound, but in this moment of quiet reflection, it felt a little less overwhelming. They weren’t alone. They had each other—and they had a promise to keep.

Obi-Wan finally broke the silence, his tone lightening as he gestured to Kieran’s lightsaber. “So, ready for round two?”

Kieran grinned, reigniting his blade with a familiar snap-hiss. “Always.”

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Hours later, the sparring had ended, and the two Jedi sat side by side on the courtyard steps, their robes disheveled and their limbs aching. The stars had begun to twinkle in the darkening sky above Theed, and the city’s celebrations had quieted to a distant hum.

Kieran leaned back, his arms resting on the step behind him as he gazed up at the stars. “You know,” he said after a long pause, “for all the chaos we’ve been through, this isn’t a bad way to end the day.”

Obi-Wan glanced at him, a rare look of amusement softening his features. “I’ll admit, it’s been... productive. Exhausting, but productive.”

Kieran smirked. “That’s the Kieran training method for you. Exhaustion builds character.”

Obi-Wan snorted softly. “I’ll be sure to mention that to the Council when they ask why I’m limping back onto the ship tomorrow.”

“Hey, if you can limp back, then I didn’t push you hard enough,” Kieran teased, though there was a note of genuine pride in his voice. “You’re improving, Obi-Wan. I mean it.”

Obi-Wan nodded, his expression growing thoughtful. “So are you. You might not realize it, but... I see it. Qui-Gon would’ve seen it too.”

Kieran looked down at the lightsaber hilt resting in his lap, his fingers brushing the smooth metal. “I hope so,” he said quietly. Then, with a small smile, he added, “But I’ll be even better after I figure out how to talk Yoda into teaching me how to Force Speed like him.”

Obi-Wan chuckled, shaking his head. “Good luck with that.”

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Kieran, Obi-Wan, Anakin, and several Naboo officials stood beside the sleek Nubian starship that would carry them back to Coruscant. Today was the day they would say their farewells to the people they had fought alongside.

Padmé Amidala, dressed in a flowing royal gown of pale blue and gold, stood at the forefront. Her serene expression was tinged with melancholy as she faced the Jedi. Behind her, Boss Nass and a delegation of Gungan warriors stood proudly, their presence a testament to the newfound unity between the Naboo and the Gungans. Further back, Shmi Skywalker stood with a quiet dignity, a free woman now, watching her son with a mixture of pride and worry.

Anakin looked up at his mother, his blue eyes wide and uncertain. His small hand clutched the edge of his Jedi robes, still new and slightly oversized for him. He had taken to his new path with excitement and determination, but here, at this moment, the boy in him shone through.

“You don’t have to be afraid, Ani,” Shmi said softly, kneeling to meet her son at eye level. Her voice was as warm as the Naboo sunlight, steady despite the storm of emotions behind her calm exterior. “You’re going to do amazing things.”

Anakin’s lip trembled slightly. “But I’m going so far away. What if... what if something happens to you?”

Shmi cupped his face in her hands, her touch firm but gentle. “You don’t need to worry about me, my son. I’m free now. Free to build a new life here on Naboo. And I’ll be safe. Queen Amidala has been so kind, and I’ll have friends here to look after me.” Her gaze flicked briefly to Padmé, who gave her a reassuring nod.

Anakin’s shoulders sagged, but he nodded slowly. “I just… I’ll miss you.”

“And I’ll miss you,” Shmi said, her voice breaking slightly. She pulled him into a tight embrace, holding him close as if committing the feeling of his small frame to memory. “But we’ll see each other again, Ani. I know it. The Force will bring us together when the time is right.”

Kieran, standing off to the side with Obi-Wan, shifted awkwardly. He had never been good at moments like these—too much emotion, too many memories of loss. He glanced at Obi-Wan, who was watching the exchange with his usual composed demeanor, though there was a softness in his eyes that hadn’t been there before. Qui-Gon’s death had changed him, Kieran realized. It had softened some edges and sharpened others.

When Shmi finally released Anakin, her hands lingered on his shoulders as she smiled through her tears. “You be good, Ani. Listen to your masters. And always follow your heart.”

Anakin nodded, his chin trembling as he tried to hold back his own tears. “I will, Mom. I promise.”

Padmé stepped forward then, her elegant presence filling the space. She smiled warmly at Anakin before turning her attention to the Jedi. “I’ll take care of her, Anakin,” she said, her voice as steady as ever. “Your mother will have everything she needs here. You can focus on your training, knowing she’s safe.”

“Thank you, Padmé,” Anakin said softly, his voice barely above a whisper.

Padmé’s gaze shifted to Kieran and Obi-Wan. “And thank you,” she said, her tone more formal now. “For everything you’ve done for Naboo. For me.” Her eyes lingered on Kieran for a moment, a flicker of something unspoken passing between them before she quickly looked away. “The bond we’ve forged between the Naboo and the Gungans is because of your bravery. We owe you a debt that can never be repaid.”

Kieran rubbed the back of his neck, trying to play it off with a half-smile. “We were just doing our job. Besides, you were the one leading the charge."

Padmé shook her head. “You’ve done more than you know. Naboo will always welcome you as heroes.”

Boss Nass stepped forward then, his booming voice cutting through the morning air. “Yousa always bein’ friends to da Gungans,” he said, his wide mouth stretching into a grin. “Wesa never forgettin’ what yousa done.”

Kieran couldn’t help but smile at the Gungan leader’s enthusiasm. “Thanks, Boss Nass. I’ll hold you to that if I ever need a favor.”

Obi-Wan cleared his throat gently, stepping forward to address the group. “It has been an honor to serve Naboo and its people. Though we must part ways now, know that the Jedi Order stands ready to assist you should you ever need us again.”

Padmé inclined her head, her regal bearing unwavering. “Thank you, Master Kenobi. I hope we meet again under less dire circumstances.”

Kieran chuckled softly. “Let’s hope the galaxy gives us a break for once.”

As the farewells continued, Anakin lingered near his mother, reluctant to leave her side. Kieran watched them from a distance, his chest tightening slightly. He remembered what it felt like to lose family, to step into an uncertain future with only the Force to guide him. For all of Anakin’s potential, he was still just a boy, and this moment—leaving his mother behind—would stay with him forever.

Kieran stepped closer, placing a hand on Anakin’s shoulder. “Come on, Anakin,” he said gently. “It’s time.”

Anakin looked up at him, his eyes glistening with unshed tears. “Do you think... do you think I’ll see her again?”

Kieran crouched to meet his gaze, his tone quiet but firm. “I do. And when you do, you’ll be stronger. You’ll be able to protect her, just like you always wanted. But for now, you need to focus on what’s ahead. You’ve got a lot to learn, and the galaxy isn’t going to wait for you to catch up.”

Anakin nodded slowly, wiping his eyes with the back of his hand. “Okay.”

Kieran straightened, his gaze drifting back to Shmi. She offered him a small, grateful smile, and he nodded in return. Then, with one last glance at the gathered crowd, he turned and led Anakin toward the starship.

Obi-Wan followed closely, pausing to offer a final bow to Padmé and the others. “May the Force be with you,” he said, his voice solemn.

“And with you,” Padmé replied, her gaze lingering on the departing Jedi.

As the ramp to the ship rose and the engines roared to life, the people of Naboo and the Gungans watched in silence, their gratitude and respect etched into their faces. Shmi placed a hand over her heart, her eyes never leaving the ship as it ascended into the sky.

Inside the ship, Anakin sat quietly beside Kieran, his gaze fixed on the viewport as Naboo grew smaller and smaller beneath them. Kieran glanced at him, sensing the storm of emotions swirling within the boy. He didn’t say anything, though. Sometimes, words weren’t enough.

Obi-Wan joined them, settling into the seat across from Kieran. He studied the younger Jedi for a moment, his expression unreadable. “You did well back there,” he said finally.

Kieran shrugged, leaning back in his seat. “It wasn’t much. Just trying to make it easier for him.”

“Still,” Obi-Wan said, his tone softening, “you handled it well.”

Kieran gave a small nod, his gaze shifting to Anakin. The boy’s hands were clenched tightly in his lap, but his breathing had steadied.

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Within the temple’s expansive training halls, Kieran, Obi-Wan, and Anakin stood together, the faint hum of training remotes and practice sabers filling the space.

Anakin held his newly built lightsaber—a simple yet elegant design for a beginner—with a look of intense focus. He had been practicing the basic sequences of Form I, Shii-Cho, under Obi-Wan’s watchful eye for the past few days. Kieran leaned casually against the wall, arms crossed as he observed the boy’s movements, occasionally offering pointers.

“Keep your grip loose,” Obi-Wan said, his tone patient but firm. He adjusted Anakin’s stance with a nudge of his hand. “Tight enough to keep control, but not so tight that you lose flexibility.”

Anakin frowned, shifting his feet. “But if it’s loose, won’t it make my swings weaker?”

Kieran smirked, pushing off the wall and stepping closer. “Not if your form is right. Power doesn’t come from gripping harder—it comes from precision and flow. Think of it like... I don’t know, a podracer. The steering’s sensitive, but the machine responds better when you stop trying to muscle it.”

Anakin’s face lit up slightly at the analogy. “I guess that makes sense.”

“Good,” Obi-Wan said with a small smile. “Now, let’s try it again. Start with the opening sequence—guard position, then high slash.”

Anakin ignited his saber, the blue blade springing to life with a snap-hiss. He carefully moved through the sequence Obi-Wan demonstrated earlier: a high guard, a downward slash, then a diagonal sweep. His movements were stiff, but there was undeniable potential in his strikes, even for someone so new to the Order.

Kieran circled around him, watching closely. “Not bad, but don’t think of it as just swinging a blade. Every strike is part of a bigger picture. See how Obi-Wan flows through his movements? It’s all connected—one motion leads into the next.”

Obi-Wan demonstrated with his own lightsaber, his movements slow and deliberate. Each slash and block transitioned seamlessly into the next, forming a continuous flow. “Shii-Cho is about simplicity and control,” he explained. “You master this, and every other form becomes easier to learn.”

Anakin copied Obi-Wan’s movements, trying to mimic the fluidity. His strikes were still a little mechanical, but there was a noticeable improvement.

“Better,” Kieran said with an approving nod. “Now, try adding a step forward with each strike. Footwork’s just as important as what you’re doing with the blade.”

Anakin obeyed, taking a hesitant step as he slashed downward. He stumbled slightly, catching himself before straightening. “This is harder than it looks.”

“Of course it is,” Obi-Wan said with a faint smile. “If it were easy, anyone could be a Jedi.”

Anakin shot him a quick, cheeky grin. “I still think I’ll be better at this than you were.”

Kieran chuckled, clapping Anakin on the shoulder. “Careful, Anakin. Obi-Wan’s only just started taking compliments, and now you’re going to make him regret it.”

Obi-Wan rolled his eyes but couldn’t entirely suppress his amusement. “Let’s focus on the lesson, shall we?”

Anakin smirked but returned to practicing his strikes. As he moved through the sequence again, Kieran’s gaze drifted to Obi-Wan. There was a noticeable shift in the new Jedi Knight’s demeanor—an almost parental patience that had been absent during his time as a Padawan under Qui-Gon. Kieran had expected Obi-Wan to struggle with mentoring Anakin, but he was proving to be more adaptable than Kieran had given him credit for.

Still, Kieran couldn’t resist testing the waters. “You know, Obi-Wan, if Anakin keeps this up, he might actually surpass you in Shii-Cho.”

Obi-Wan shot him a dry look. “Let’s hope he surpasses you in humility while we’re at it.”

“Humility’s overrated,” Kieran quipped, earning a laugh from Anakin.

The three fell into a comfortable rhythm after that, with Obi-Wan guiding Anakin through the fundamentals while Kieran chimed in with his own insights. After another hour of practice, Anakin finally deactivated his saber, his expression a mix of pride and exhaustion.

“Not bad for your first real session,” Kieran said, tossing him a towel. “Keep this up, and you’ll be slicing training remotes in no time.”

Anakin wiped the sweat from his brow. “I still feel like I’m doing it wrong. My movements aren’t as smooth as yours or Master Kenobi’s.”

“That comes with time,” Obi-Wan said, kneeling slightly to meet Anakin’s eye level. “Patience is just as important as practice, Anakin. You’ve taken your first steps, and that’s what matters.”

Anakin nodded, though his youthful eagerness was obvious. “I just want to get better faster.”

Kieran smiled faintly, crouching down beside him. “It’s good to want to improve. But don’t try to rush it, Anakin." He wanted to say something else, his own interpretation of the Force but he stayed his tongue.

Kieran paused, glancing at Obi-Wan before continuing carefully. “The thing about being a Jedi—about training with the Force—is that it’s not about speed or how quickly you learn something. It’s about connection. Every swing of your saber, every step you take, every breath—it’s all tied to the Force. If you’re too focused on getting better fast, you miss the lessons the Force is trying to teach you in the moment.”

Anakin looked up at him, his blue eyes narrowing slightly in thought. “But isn’t the Force supposed to help us? To make us stronger and faster?”

Kieran exhaled, standing and folding his arms. “It does, but only if you let it. The Force isn’t like a tool you pick up when you need it—it’s always there, working with you, guiding you. If you treat it like a shortcut, you’re just limiting yourself.”

Obi-Wan raised an eyebrow, clearly catching Kieran’s deviation from traditional Jedi philosophy but choosing not to interrupt. Instead, he observed, arms crossed, intrigued by how Kieran would explain himself.

“I don’t get it,” Anakin said, shaking his head slightly. “Master Qui-Gon said I had the Force all around me. That it’s... helping me all the time. But how do I... I don’t know, use it better?”

Kieran crouched again so he could look Anakin in the eye. “Here’s how I see it—and don’t tell the Council I said this, or they’ll give me an extra month of meditation duty.” He smirked, which coaxed a small laugh out of Anakin before he continued. “The Force isn’t something you ‘use.’ It’s something you work with. It’s like... having a partner.”

“Like a podracing team?” Anakin asked, latching onto the analogy.

“Exactly,” Kieran said, nodding. “When you’re piloting, you’re the one in control of the racer, right? But your co-pilot—or your team—they’re there to help, to make adjustments, to guide you through tough spots. The Force is like that. It’s not here to serve you, and it’s not here to control you. It’s your partner. Treat it like one, and you’ll find you don’t have to ‘try’ so hard. Things just... click.”

Anakin furrowed his brow, clearly thinking about this. “So... if I trust the Force, it’ll help me?”

Kieran smiled. “It’s a two-way street. You trust it, and it trusts you back. That’s when things start to happen.”

Obi-Wan finally spoke, his tone carefully measured. “That’s an... unorthodox way of explaining it, Kieran. But it’s not entirely wrong.” He turned to Anakin, his expression softening. “The Jedi teach us to surrender to the will of the Force, Anakin. To allow it to guide us. What Kieran is suggesting... well, it’s a more personal interpretation, but the principle is the same. Trust in the Force, and it will show you the way.”

Kieran shrugged lightly, leaning back on his heels. “It’s just how I see it. The Council likes to say the Force has a will, and that might be true, but it doesn’t mean you’re just a tool for it to use. The Force doesn’t want to dominate you or make you give up who you are. It wants to work with you to bring balance. That’s why you’ve got to meet it halfway.”

Anakin seemed torn between the two perspectives, his youthful mind grappling with these competing philosophies. “But... isn’t that kind of selfish? To think of the Force as, like, my teammate? I thought Jedi weren’t supposed to think about themselves.”

Kieran smiled faintly. “It’s not selfish if you’re working together for something bigger. The Force is vast—it touches everything. When you trust it, you’re not just helping yourself; you’re helping the galaxy. That’s the balance we’re all supposed to find.”

Obi-Wan didn’t look entirely convinced, but he didn’t argue. Instead, he laid a hand on Anakin’s shoulder. “For now, let’s focus on what you can control—your training. The rest will come in time.”

Anakin nodded slowly, his grip tightening on his saber. “Okay. I’ll try. I just... I want to be the best Jedi I can be.”

“That’s a good start,” Obi-Wan said, standing. “But remember, Anakin—being a Jedi isn’t about being the best. It’s about serving the galaxy, about protecting those who cannot protect themselves.”

Kieran added, his tone lightening, “And about making sure you don’t accidentally chop your own leg off during training. Let’s not forget that part.”

Anakin laughed, his tension easing as he powered down his lightsaber. “I’ll try not to.”

“Good,” Kieran said, ruffling Anakin’s hair. “Because I’m pretty sure Yoda would make me the one to clean up the mess.”

Obi-Wan gave a faint smile, shaking his head. “That’s enough for today. You’ve done well, Anakin. Go rest—you’ve earned it.”

Anakin nodded eagerly and trotted off toward the dormitories, his youthful energy seemingly undiminished despite the long training session.

As the boy disappeared from view, Obi-Wan turned to Kieran, his arms crossing again. “That was an interesting perspective you shared with him. The Force as a... partner?”

Kieran shrugged, leaning against the wall again. “It’s how I see it. The Council can talk all they want about the will of the Force, but it doesn’t feel like something is controlling me. It feels like... I don’t know, like it’s walking alongside me. Helping me, not ordering me around.”

“Hmm,” Obi-Wan mused, his gaze thoughtful. “I’m not sure the Council would entirely agree, but there’s a certain logic to it. Qui-Gon might’ve liked the idea.”

Kieran’s smile faded slightly at the mention of Qui-Gon, but he nodded. “Maybe. He always had his own way of looking at things too.”

Obi-Wan studied him for a moment before his expression softened. “You’re good with him—with Anakin. I wasn’t sure how this would work, having you still as my Padawan while training him, but you’re proving me wrong.”

Kieran smirked. “I’ll take that as a compliment, Master Kenobi.”

“Don’t let it go to your head,” Obi-Wan said dryly, though the faint curve of his lips betrayed his amusement. “You still have much to learn yourself.”

“Then I guess I’ll just have to trust the Force,” Kieran replied cheekily. “After all, it’s my partner.”

Obi-Wan chuckled, shaking his head as they began walking back toward the temple’s main hall.