The weeks turned into months of rhythmic, disciplined secrecy. By day, David was the quiet orphan who helped in the kitchens; by night, he was a scholar of the invisible. He pushed his Force Enlightenment to the breaking point, mapping every corner of the Light Side's peaceful reservoir. Yet, every time he reached for the raw, destructive frequencies of the Force, he hit a wall—a metaphysical "restriction" that demanded hate he did not possess.
One night, exhausted by the mental strain, David lay in his narrow cot. There has to be a bypass, he thought, his mind drifting between his Earth-born logic and this galaxy's mysticism. The energy is neutral. The limit is in the alignment, not the power.
As sleep claimed him, the Force finally answered.
The dream was not a dream; it was a Force Vision, vivid and terrifyingly real. He saw a planet of jagged obsidian peaks and glowing white valleys—a world where the environment itself seemed split in two. In the center of a swirling vortex stood two figures: one a silhouette of devouring shadow, the other a pillar of blinding radiance.
He saw himself standing between them. He watched his dream-self raise a hand, and instead of the calm hum of his usual practice, a violent, jagged spear of lightning erupted from his fingertips. It tore through the air with the lethality of a Sith's wrath, but it wasn't blue or purple. It was a searing, holy white.
In the vision, his eyes remained clear. No yellow rot. No darkness. Just a man channeling the storm through a heart of peace.
David's eyes snapped open, his breath hitching in the silent dormitory. The air in the room felt ionized, smelling faintly of ozone.
"A trial," he whispered, the realization settling into his bones. "The Force didn't just show me the 'what.' It showed me the 'where.'"
He sat up, grabbing a scrap of flimsiplast to sketch the star charts he had glimpsed in the vision's periphery. He recognized the nebula—the Veil of the Force—but the planet itself was a ghost, missing from any standard map he had seen in the orphanage's meager databanks. It was a world outside the Jedi Archives, a place where the rules of the Order did not reach.
He had the clue, but he was a six-year-old boy on a backwater world with no credits and no ship. He knew the planet existed, but finding a needle in a galactic haystack required more than just vision—it required a way to leave Lothal.
******
The coincidence was too perfect to be anything other than the Will of the Force. Within weeks of his vision, the orphanage director announced a sponsored pilgrimage to a world on the edge of the sector—a planet known for its ancient, towering monoliths and strange atmospheric anomalies.
As the shuttle broke through the cloud cover, David pressed his forehead against the transparisteel. Below lay the jagged obsidian peaks and the glowing white valleys from his dream. He didn't need a map; his soul recognized the vibration of the ground.
"Thank you," he whispered into the humming air of the cabin.
That night, while the other children slept in the temporary barracks under the watchful eyes of weary droids, David slipped out. He didn't use Force Speed; he didn't want to leave a wake in the Force. He moved like a shadow, guided by the pull in his chest.
He found it at the base of a nameless mountain: a cave mouth that seemed to breathe. On the left, the rock was encrusted with glowing white moss that radiated a serene warmth; on the right, the stone was slick, black, and radiated a chill that made his teeth ache. They did not merge. Where they met, the air hissed and crackled with raw, unrefined potential.
David stepped across the threshold.
The transition was instantaneous. The sound of the wind died, replaced by a silence so heavy it felt like being underwater. He wasn't in a cave anymore. He stood on a platform of pure glass suspended in a void. To his left stood Eve, a being of shimmering, iridescent light whose very presence felt like a mother's embrace. To his right stood Adam, a towering silhouette of shifting smoke and embers, radiating a power that felt like the edge of a blade.
They did not speak with voices, but with the weight of the universe.
"The Traveler comes," Eve's presence echoed, soft as a prayer.
"The Thief comes," Adam's presence growled, sharp as a strike. "To take the fire without the burn. To wield the shadow without the soul."
David stood his ground, his small five-year-old frame dwarfed by the manifestations. He bowed, not out of fear, but out of respect for the balance they represented.
"I seek the Trial of Free Will," David said, his voice steady. "I seek to break the restriction. Not for greed, but for the clarity to serve the Force as it truly is."
Adam leaned forward, the shadows of his face swirling like a nebula. "To use our power, you must first survive us. Many have tried to bridge the gap. Most become ash. Some become monsters."
"I have already died once," David replied, meeting the entity's gaze. "I am not afraid of the dark, and I do not cling to the light. I only seek the truth."