The Jedi Temple was eerily quiet that morning, its usual hum of activity dampened by an unspoken tension. Kaelen strode through the polished marble corridors, each step echoing hollowly in the vastness. His heart beat unevenly, heavy with dread and bitterness. He had been summoned to the Council—a rare and serious event—without any hint of why. Rumours swirled among the younglings and knights alike, but no one dared speak openly.
As Kaelen rounded the corner near the Council chambers, a small voice interrupted his storm of thoughts.
"Are you a Jedi too?"
Kaelen looked down and found himself staring into a pair of wide, hopeful eyes belonging to a boy no older than nine, his blond hair tousled as if he had just run through a garden. The boy's expression was open, curious, a stark contrast to the weight Kaelen carried.
"Yeah," Kaelen replied cautiously, masking the bitterness in his tone. "Who are you?"
"I'm Anakin Skywalker," the boy said, standing a little taller, a shy smile brushing his lips. "I heard you're close to Qui-Gon."
Kaelen's chest tightened at the name. Qui-Gon Jinn—the man who had been more than a master to him. A mentor, a friend, his guiding light in the dark. And now, gone.
Before Kaelen could answer, a calm, measured voice arrived from behind.
"Kaelen, this is Anakin Skywalker," Obi-Wan Kenobi said, his blue eyes warm but tinged with concern. "Like you, he was very close to Qui-Gon. The Council believes you both may find strength in each other during this difficult time."
Kaelen's gaze flicked between Obi-Wan and the boy. "How… how is this boy here? He's so young."
Obi-Wan smiled softly. "He is extraordinary. The Force is strong with him. Qui-Gon believed in him, just as he believed in you."
Anakin looked up, eyes shining with a quiet intensity. "Qui-Gon said I was special… that I had a destiny."
Kaelen's lips pressed into a thin line. "He believed in m,e too," he said, voice barely a whisper. "But he's gone."
The air thickened with grief. Obi-Wan placed a steadying hand on Kaelen's shoulder. "We all mourn him, but his teachings remain with us. The path ahead is difficult, but we must honour him by continuing his work."
Kaelen swallowed hard, the pain threatening to consume him. Then, surprisingly, a flicker of hope sparked within.
"Maybe together," he said slowly, "we can find a way forward."
Anakin nodded, his small hand reaching out to brush against Kaelen's sleeve. "Maybe."
The heavy oak doors of the Council chamber opened, and Kaelen took a deep breath, steeling himself to face whatever awaited inside.
The training hall was cavernous, filled with the cold light of early morning filtering through high windows. The sharp scent of polished stone mixed with the faint hum of energy as Kaelen ignited his lightsaber, the blade a brilliant violet flash slicing the dim.
Mace Windu stood nearby, his posture rigid, watching with a calm that masked a storm of thoughts beneath his stern exterior.
Kaelen's strikes came fast and furious—too fast, too wild. His body moved with the power of a tempest, but the control was missing. Each blow carried the weight of a broken spirit, fueled more by raw emotion than discipline.
When Kaelen slammed his blade against a training dummy with a force that splintered wood and sent shards flying, Windu's voice rang out, sharp and commanding.
"Enough!"
Kaelen whirled, breath ragged, sweat dripping down his brow, eyes blazing with pain and fury. "Why?" he spat. "Why am I supposed to control this? How do I even begin to control the storm inside me?"
Mace took a step closer, his presence steady and immovable. "Because if you cannot control yourself, you will fall. The darkness will consume you."
Kaelen shook his head, voice cracking under the weight of grief. "You don't understand! You weren't there! You didn't lose someone who believed in you…Whoo, was everything!"
Mace's face tightened, the usual calm deepening into something harder to read. "I know loss. The difference is I do not let it drive me to destruction."
The young Jedi's fists clenched so hard his nails bit into his palms. "Then teach me! Show me how to not lose myself in this pain."
There was a long silence as Mace regarded him, the older master's mind turning over the tempest within Kaelen's heart.
This boy's grief is like a wildfire, Mace thought. It burns everything in its path, including itself. If left unchecked, it will consume not only his spirit but the very soul of the Order.
"Kaelen," Mace said finally, voice low but firm, "anger and sorrow are not weaknesses. They are natural, but you must channel them. You must transform them into resolve, ot destruction."
Kaelen's shoulders shook, a storm of emotions crashing inside him. "I'm so tired of being told to 'control' it. The harder I try, the more it hurts. Sometimes, I just want to break."
Mace's eyes softened, just a fraction, revealing the empathy buried beneath the stern exterior. "Breaking is part of growth. But after breaking, you must choose to rebuild. You will not do this alone. The Order, your brothers and sisters—we are here to help you carry this burden."
Kaelen's voice dropped to a whisper, cracked with vulnerability. "Sometimes, I don't know if I'm strong enough."
"Strength isn't the absence of doubt," Mace said quietly. "It's standing up even when you're afraid."
Kaelen looked away, fighting the tears threatening to spill. The rage, the grief, the confusion—it all swirled inside him like a tempest with no shore.
Mace stepped back, a silent sentinel watching the boy wrestle with his shadows. He knew this was just the beginning of a long, painful journey. But beneath the turmoil, he glimpsed a flicker of something precious—a spark of potential that, with time and guidance, might grow into true strength.
The days that followed spiralled into chaos. Kaelen's emotions battered him like a storm, and he took it out on those around him. During sparring sessions, his strikes grew more aggressive, fueled less by discipline than by anguish. Younglings recoiled, older students exchanged worried glances, and even the masters watched him with growing concern.
"Kaelen!" Master Tera's voice broke through the din during a particularly violent match when Kaelen knocked a smaller student to the ground. "This is not the way of the Jedi."
Kaelen's breath came ragged as he towered over the fallen youngling, his eyes flashing with pain and frustration. "You don't know what it's like to lose someone who believed in you!" he shouted.
Several masters nearby exchanged grim looks. The Council's worry deepened. The boy was slipping —ast.
Later, Kaelen sat alone in a quiet corner of the Temple gardens. Moonlight painted his face silver as he stared blankly at the stars. He clenched his jaw, trying to force the pain down, but it bubbled beneath the surface, restless and raw.
"Why can't I be strong like Qui-Gon wanted?" he whispered to the night.
A soft voice startled him.
"Because strength isn't about fighting the pain away," Obi-Wan said, stepping into the glow. "It's about facing it and not letting it define you."
Kaelen shook his head, bitter. "I'm trying, but it keeps coming back."
Obi-Wan knelt beside him, placing a steady hand on his shoulder. "You're not alone. I'll help you find your way."
Days later, Obi-Wan sought out Kaelen in the meditation chamber, where the boy sat with eyes closed, seeking some semblance of peace.
"Kaelen," Obi-Wan said gently, "there's something Qui-Gon left for you."
Kaelen's eyes fluttered open, wary and raw. "What?"
"Before he left, Qui-Gon recorded a message. For you. He wanted you to have it when you were ready."
Kaelen's lip trembled, but a flicker of hope shone in his eyes. "Why didn't anyone tell me?"
Obi-Wan sighed, sadness in his voice. "He wanted you to find it yourself—to come to terms with your pain in your own time. But you don't have to face this alone anymore. I'll be here, watching over you."
Kaelen swallowed hard, feeling a fragile thread of connection reweaving between him and the memory of his master.
The chamber was small and dim, the walls lined with ancient Jedi relics that seemed to watch silently. The soft blue glow from the holo-projector bathed the room in an ethereal light, flickering slightly as the recording began.
Kaelen's hands trembled as he activated the message. His breath caught in his throat when the familiar face of Qui-Gon Jinn appeared—calm, steady, and full of the gentle strength that had once anchored him through countless trials.
The master's eyes locked on Kaelen with a warmth that cut through the years of bitterness and pain. "Kaelen," Qui-Gon began, voice steady yet imbued with a tenderness that felt almost alive, "if you are seeing this, then the burden you carry has become heavy. I am no longer with you in the physical world, but the Force binds us beyond death. I am with you still—though in a different way."
Kaelen's chest tightened. The words clawed at a raw wound inside him, the ache of absence that had grown like a shadow since that terrible day.
Qui-Gon's gaze softened. "You are struggling, and I know that pain is overwhelming. It threatens to consume you. But pain, anger, and grief—they are part of the path, not the end of it. Do not deny these feelings, for in denial, you give them power over your spirit."
Kaelen's eyes burned with unshed tears, and his fists clenched so tightly his nails bit into his palms. "How?" he whispered to the empty chamber. "How do I stop it from destroying me?"
The image of Qui-Gon smiled gently, the kind of smile that held infinite patience. "You learn to feel the pain without being consumed by it. You learn to accept your loss without letting it define you. That is the true strength, Kaelen. Not the strength of the blade or the Force alone, but the strength of the heart."
Kaelen's breath hitched, a fresh wave of grief threatening to break him. The loneliness of those long, sleepless nights—the furious anger, the moments when he had lashed out at friends and masters alike—rose in his mind.
Qui-Gon's voice softened to a whisper that resonated like a soothing balm. "Trust the Force, but more importantly, trust yourself. You are not alone, even when the path feels darkest. Your light remains, Kaelen. Let it guide you back."
For a long moment, the chamber was silent except for the low hum of the projector winding down. The image faded, leaving Kaelen alone with the echo of his master's final words.
He sank to the floor, knees drawn up, and finally allowed the tears to fall freely—tears not just of loss, but of release. In that quiet surrender, a fragile hope began to take root inside him, a whisper that maybe, just maybe, he could find peace again.
Later, wandering through the temple halls, Kaelen found Anakin waiting by the entrance to the training grounds. The boy's eyes were bright but weary.
"You seemed angry before," Anakin said softly. "I get it. I miss Qui-Gon too."
Kaelen studied the boy's face—so young, yet touched by loss. "It's hard not knowing how to be strong when everything feels broken."
Anakin nodded, stepping closer. "Maybe we can help each other. I don't want to be alone."
Kaelen's lips curled into a small, genuine smile for the first time in days. "Yeah. Maybe we're stronger together."
As the two walked side by side, their steps echoed with quiet promise. In the shadow of loss, a new bond was born—one that might just hold the strength to carry them both forward.