The doors didn't explode open.
They slid apart—quietly, mechanically—with a hiss that somehow made the silence louder.
Eli stood frozen near the window, half-hidden behind a pillar in the youngling dormitory. The others turned to look. A few boys chuckled nervously, thinking it was just another squad of clones come to check on them.
But Eli knew.
He saw the black robes before the light caught the blade.
Blue. Not red.
But it wasn't comforting.
Anakin Skywalker walked through the door.
His face was still. Empty. His saber already lit.
Two clones followed him—helmets down, weapons ready.
Time slowed.
The Force screamed.
---
"Master Skywalker?" one of the younglings asked, stepping forward with wide eyes.
Eli couldn't breathe.
He couldn't move.
Run.
But his feet wouldn't obey.
Anakin raised his blade.
Blaster fire erupted.
The hallway behind them lit with screaming light and smoke. One of the Masters outside the dorm tried to ignite her saber, but the clones cut her down before it even hummed to life.
Panic rippled through the children.
Screams. Crying. The dormitory erupted into chaos.
Eli grabbed Niyala's wrist.
"This way!" he shouted.
They ran.
---
He didn't know the Temple well. Not really. He'd only wandered parts of it—never memorized the paths.
But now instinct and fear took over.
He yanked her down a side corridor, past a storage room, ducking behind a fallen statue. Blaster bolts scorched the walls just inches behind them.
"Where are we going?" she cried.
"I don't know!" he shouted.
They turned down another hall—then skidded to a halt.
Two clone troopers blocked the path.
"Targets confirmed," one of them said through his helmet.
They raised their rifles.
Eli pushed Niyala down behind him.
---
The Force surged.
For a split second, he felt everything—the cold of the metal walls, the heat of the blasters, the fear in his blood.
He reached out with both hands.
Move!
A crash—one of the clones staggered back, his aim thrown wide. Eli had shoved him with the Force, clumsily but hard enough to disrupt.
The second clone fired.
Pain lanced through Eli's shoulder.
He screamed and fell.
Niyala grabbed him. "No—no, get up!"
"I can't—go—go!"
"No!"
Another shot tore through the air.
Niyala's body jolted.
She slumped beside him without a sound.
---
Eli gasped.
Blood. Smoke. The acrid stench of burning robes.
The hallway swam. His limbs went cold.
He could hear footsteps now—heavier ones. A lightsaber.
He turned his head just enough to see the silhouette step over Niyala's body. The blue blade burned.
Anakin's face loomed into view.
And in his eyes—nothing.
Not rage. Not remorse.
Just silence.
"You…" Eli whispered.
Anakin raised the saber.
I wasn't ready…
Light flared—
And everything went dark.
---
He fell.
But not into death. Not fully.
It felt like drowning in light. Like collapsing into fire.
The pain vanished.
He couldn't feel his body. Couldn't feel time. Just the sensation of falling backward, spinning in place, like a clock winding itself into reverse.
And then—
Stillness.
---
A breath.
A ceiling.
Orange light across the stone above.
Eli sat bolt upright in the dormitory.
Around him, younglings stirred. Someone yawned. Robes rustled. A morning breeze fluttered the curtain.
He knew that breeze.
He remembered this moment.
The same morning.
The same exact moment as before.
He looked down at his hands.
No wound. No blood.
He leapt to his feet, staggering. His shoulder was fine. Niyala's bedroll was full. She was there—alive—blinking sleepily.
He staggered to her. Grabbed her by both shoulders.
"Eli?" she murmured, confused.
"You died," he whispered. "You—no. No. We both…"
He stopped.
Realization hit him like a seismic charge.
I came back.
Time hadn't moved forward.
He had looped.
---
The panic came next.
He stumbled out of the dormitory before anyone else was even fully awake. He needed air. Space. He clutched his chest, feeling the phantom ache of the blaster hit. It wasn't there. None of it was real anymore.
But it had happened.
He had died.
They had all died.
And now… he was here again.
Back at the beginning.
---
By the time morning training began, Eli was sitting stiffly in the meditation chamber, staring into the nothingness with wide, unblinking eyes. The other younglings noticed. Master Tallis noticed.
"Kaen," the Jedi said softly, kneeling beside him. "You look like you've seen a ghost."
Eli slowly turned to him.
"I have," he whispered. "Mine."
Tallis frowned.
Eli looked up toward the Temple ceiling, and beyond that—toward the storm already forming.
He didn't know how. He didn't know why.
But he had one more chance.
And maybe that was enough.