19

There was a faint consistent tapping on his forehead that brought him back awake. He was slow to open his eyes, trying in vain to memorize the last remnant images from his strange dream, when something firm thwacked him in the face. He shot up, banging his head on the low-hanging bunk above him, a flurry of curses leaving his mouth as he cradled the knot quickly forming on his forehead. Mission stood to the side of his bunk, trying desperately to hold in a laugh, but when his eyes met hers, the giggles erupted from her lips, sending her bending over at the waist, clutching her sides, dropping the pillow she had no doubt hit him with. He couldn't be mad at her rude awakening, though, instead feeling a swell of joy and relief at hearing her laugh so openly. He had been afraid she might never smile again; the past few days had seen the girl flipping between uncontrollable sobbing or silent anger. The fact that she could still laugh meant she wasn't entirely broken.

"Glad you find my probable brain damage so amusing," Avner joked playfully, nudging the young girl as he slid from the bunk and went to see the extent of the injury in the mirror that hung in the small, adjoined fresher.

Mission gulped in a few large breaths to calm herself. "You looked like an enraged Uvak whose nest was just shat in!"

"Well, you did assault me in my sleep!"

Mission giggled again. "Hey, I tried the soft approach first, but you sleep like the dead! Excessive force was necessary!"

"You've ruined my perfectly chiseled features forever, Vao."

"Pffft, what chiseled features? Besides, who are you trying to impress? The stuffy Jedi?"

"Well, if my glowing personality didn't win them over, then I was going to fall back on my stunning good looks to woo them, but now…" He pointed to the large red knot on his forehead.

"Avner, you couldn't woo your way out of a wet paper bag."

He clutched at his heart dramatically, miming as if he had just been stabbed in the chest. "Your words wound me deeply, Mission Vao!"

"You survived fighting a rancor; I'm sure you'll live," she ribbed back with an easy, good-natured smile then she frowned. "Besides, Carth said to wake you up. Bastila needs you." She didn't say the name as venomously as before, but her frown remained firmly planted on her face as she continued. "She rushed out of here looking like she'd seen a ghost or something after ordering everyone around."

He idly wondered what had spooked the Jedi as he splashed water over his face. "She certainly has a way with people."

"Hmph, she's like Lena, always bossing everyone around and thinking she knows best."

"Lena?"

"My brother's… girlfriend."

"Your brother?"

"Yeah, Griff…"

"I didn't know you had a brother. Is he with your parents?" Avner asked, turning around to fully face the young Twi'lek who was now looking anywhere but him.

"No, he's… well, my parents are dead, I guess. Griff is complicated, and I don't really like telling people about him; it's embarrassing," Mission revealed softly, eyes downcast, staring at the scuffed toes of her boots. Avner felt a pang of sympathy for the young girl; he knew what it was like to lose a parent at a young age; his own mother had died when he was still just a kid leaving a hole in his life that had never fully healed. Mission sighed, and he glanced back at her, giving the girl ample time to gather her words. "Griff raised me, brought me to Taris when I was five, I think. I remember the trip – if you could call it that."

"I thought you were born on Taris?"

Mission shook her head. "No, Griff and I were born on some backwater colony planet I don't even remember the name of. Griff got us smuggled off that planet, stuffed into a packing crate in some star freighter's cargo hold with just enough food and water to make the trip. Not exactly first class, you know?"

"Definitely sounds… cozy, being stowaways."

"Look, we weren't stowaways… or at least I think we weren't. I don't know – I was pretty young, so the memories are a little hazy, but my brother owed a lot of money to the wrong people. He might have even had a few arrest warrants out for him. So the only way off that dirtball was to sneak passage aboard a leaving transport." She must have seen his puzzled look turn skeptical because she put her hands up in appeasement. "I don't want to make it sound like we were criminals… well, maybe my brother was."

"Mission…"

"See! This is why I don't like to talk about him like this! It makes Griff sound worse than he really is. Yeah, my brother had his problems, but he always looked out for me."

He gave her a reassuring smile and squeezed her uninjured shoulder gently. "Mission, I get it, he's family, and you have to stick by 'em even when others won't."

"I'm not giving him a pass or anything. I know he gambled and drank too much and tended to lose what little money we had on get-rich-quick schemes, but he has a good heart, you know? He taught me how to play Pazaak, hotwire a speeder, and shoot a blaster and survive." A wistful look entered her brown eyes, and her fingers tapped the old blaster strapped to her hip. The Kiffar wondered if it was her brothers.

"Sounds like he taught you some important life skills."

"Yeah, Griff did right by me. We had some good times conning wealthy marks or sneaking into locked warehouses without the security codes, but that all changed when Lena flounced into his life and made him leave." That angry frown was back in full force as soon as her name left the Twi'lek's lips. He gave her a quizzical look, and Mission continued. "He fell in with a bad crowd because of Lena! She just had to bat her long lashes at him, and he would do anything she asked! Like, leave me behind on Taris!"

She was getting more heated the longer she talked, and Avner tried to reign her mounting anger back in. "Maybe there was some kind of misunderstanding between you three-."

"Trust me, there was no misunderstanding!" Mission spat back, then deflated almost immediately, looking guilty that she had snapped at him. "Sorry… it's just that Lena makes my blood boil, and I don't want to talk about her."

"Nothing to apologize for; she's gone and forgotten," Avner assured her with a quick grin, and Mission returned it with a smile of her own.

"You know, Bastila came here looking for you a while ago, and if she's anything like Lena, then you don't want to keep her waiting," Mission reminded him before she ducked out of the dorms. "And, Avner… thanks… for listening."

Warmth settled into his chest at her sincere gratitude. It seemed he could at least do right by one person aboard this ship. He followed Mission's path out of the dorms a few minutes later after changing into a fresh set of clothes and found Carth standing at the bottom of the landing ramp staring pensively across the rolling fields at the looming Jedi temple. He and the pilot had said little to each other since landing on Dantooine, much of the bad blood from the previous few days still simmering between them.

He did turn and nod, though, when Avner joined him. "Good to see you're awake. Bastila was asking for you earlier."

"What did she want?"

Carth glanced at him once, obviously surprised at the hard underlying tone in his voice. "The Jedi Council wants to speak with you within their chambers. She left quickly, looking pretty frightened this morning the second she stepped foot aboard the Hawk."

"Great," Avner groaned, rubbing his neck in frustration.

"Rough night?"

He nodded and gingerly touched the knot on his forehead.

"Well, I can't blame you. I… I haven't exactly been sleeping well myself. I thought things would get better once we escaped Taris, but…" He trailed off and again stared at the temple, then looked at him apologetically. "In any case, I guess I owe you some thanks for helping pull this whole thing off."

"Just doing my duty."

Carth shook his head and gave him a rueful smile. "No, you went above what any other soldier would have done, and I never gave you enough credit. I was harsh, judgmental… but you never let that impact your work. So, thanks."

He forewent pointing out that the pilot had nearly cited him for going AWOL a few days prior and instead only nodded, returning Carth's smile with one of his own. He might as well end on good terms with the other soldier. He glanced past him to the Jedi temple in the distance. It appeared almost foreboding in the early morning light. "Did she say anything else?"

"No, she didn't," Carth replied and gazed pensively over at the temple. "She didn't seem well, though. Neither do you, for that matter… are you alright?"

"I'm fine." What he said was half true; physically, he had nearly recovered from the numerous injuries he had sustained on Taris, but deep within himself, he felt ill. It was a feeling he had been experiencing ever since they had touched down on Dantooine, and it had only increased since his first meeting with the Jedi Masters. It was as if something had crawled inside him and wrapped itself around his chest, burrowing deep into his guts. Perhaps the Force was trying to tell him something. What it could be, he didn't even have a clue, but maybe Bastila's masters could offer him some type of help.

The temple's shadow slowly blocked the sun's warm morning light, and a chill settled deep into Avner's bones. This place… something about it unsettled him; it stirred vague feelings of unease and anger like he had walked these well-worn pathways before. Except he has never stepped foot on this planet nor met any of the many people passing by him. They were all strangers, a sea of blank faces he could lose himself in. But he pushed forward, shoving the quiet discomfort down deep, and took the path Bastila had shown him the day prior towards the Council chambers. As he approached the familiar red, iron doors, they were shut with a single man standing guard before them.

He was a tall, stately Twi'lek with skin the color of a lush forest wrapped in woodsy brown robes. He raised a single hand as Avner approached and gave him an easy smile. "Hold, friend, the Jedi Council is in session beyond these doors and requests privacy at this time. I do not recognize you. Are you new to our Order, or perhaps seeking an audience with the Jedi Masters?"

"I'm Sergeant Avner Marek, and I was told Bastila Shan and her Masters requested my presence."

"Ahhh yes, the soldier Knight Shan rescued from Taris! You have been expected; when the masters finish with their present talks, I will let you in. I am Jedi Knight Deesra Luur Jada, temple guardian to the Dantooine Enclave, but you can call me Deesra," the other man said as he gave a small bow of respect.

"We escaped together," Avner returned quickly, feeling a small twinge of annoyance at this man's belief that Bastila had been the one to rescue him when it was really the other way around. He wondered if Bastila had been tweaking the events of their escape, or perhaps this man wholeheartedly believed that a Jedi was the only person who could have gotten away from the living hell of Taris.

Deesra blinked in surprise but nodded thoughtfully. "Oh, I see. I meant no offense, of course. Knight Shan doesn't speak of the events, so we are all left to speculate. In any case, it is good to have her back on Dantooine again. We were afraid Malak had captured her. What he would have done to her… the tortures he could have inflicted…"

"She made it out alright."

"Yes, this time, but Malak is relentless and will stop at nothing to remove her from the war. Revan may have been a genius strategist, but Malak's cruelty is almost just as effective in hunting her down."

"Why is he after her?"

"She's the Last Hope of the Republic, the only person to hold Darth Revan at bay, and now she does the same with Darth Malak. Her Battle Meditation is the only thing that gives us an advantage over the Sith. If she were to fall… all would be lost," Deesra explained, looking quite morose. "Still, I worry that all this responsibility may be too much for her. The pressure would have broken a lesser being long ago."

He felt a pang of sympathy for the young woman carrying this impossible burden, a girl who had probably been forced to grow up too soon and shoulder a weight that would have crushed many others. And he hadn't made it easy on her, arguing, pushing back, sometimes being downright antagonistic. Guilt wriggled low in his gut; he owed her an apology and perhaps some sympathy.

The red, iron doors before him cranked open, and Deesra stepped aside. "The Masters are ready for you, friend. I hope you find the answers you seek here on Dantooine. May the Force be with you."

Avner stepped into the spacious room once more and found the same men from the day before, minus Bastila, gathered in a loose semicircle. Their expressions were neutral, but their postures were rigid, a tense air hanging around them. Still, Master Vandar offered him a kind smile as he came to a stop before the group.

"Thank you for meeting with us, Avner."

"Where's Bastila?"

"She will join us shortly," Master Zhar said. He held in his hands a simple datapad. "For now, we wish to conduct a few tests with you, Sergeant."

"What kind of tests?" Avner asked, feeling a bit uneasy at the prospect of being examined by these men.

"Just some simple assessments to gauge your Force sensitivity. We would like to begin with your permission," Zhar explained patiently. He sensed honesty. For now, they were only interested in seeing what he could do so he would entertain them. He nodded his consent, and the Battlemaster held up his datapad. "Images will flash on this screen. Just tell us what is being shown."

"You going to let me see the datapad?"

Zhar shook his head. "Stretch out with your feelings and let the Force form the image in your mind. Are you ready?"

He nodded and closed his eyes. His focus drifted to the datapad in the Twi'lek's hands, letting the Force form around the images flashing to life on the screen. They leaped into his mind unbidden: a speeder, two trees, a waterfall, broken blades, a solitary key, and a slavering gundark. There was no hesitation in his answers, and when he opened his eyes, Master Zhar was nodding.

"All correct."

He felt a rush of pride but also a twinge like a small pinch at the base of his brain. He shook his head, trying to push the feeling away. He wouldn't let what had been plaguing him stop him now.

Vrook stepped forward. "Our next test is a bit more complex. We will each attempt to touch your mind, prevent us from doing so, and determine which of us is the culprit. Are you ready?"

He met their gazes head-on, readying his mental defenses. The first touch came like a heavy blow, almost like a closed fist against the side of his skull. It left him reeling, and he threw up his guard, trying desperately to ward off the accompanying strikes. He pushed back, aiming at Vrook, who was sure to be the perpetrator, but the other man merely brushed aside his clumsy advance and shook his head instead, pointing to the smallest amongst them, Master Vandar. The mental blows ceased at once.

"Wrong."

The next assault was more refined, targeted strikes almost surgical in nature, trying to pierce through the weak spots in his defenses. He deflected each one before latching onto the last and following it back to Master Zhar, pushing back against him rougher than he intended.

But the Battlemaster only smiled. "Correct."

The final brush was subtle, a barely perceptible nudge like someone stroking a finger over the back of his head. He sealed his mind tight like a vault door swinging shut and tried to grasp the elusive presence. But the pursuit was in vain, and it slipped through his fingers like water. His eyes darted between Vrook and Dorak. Which of the men was responsible? Or could it be Master Zhar or Vandar again? A low throbbing ache began to settle behind his eyes the longer the chase went on, and it spread down to his chest. It was all taking a toll on him, and he could barely keep up.

Master Vrook shook his head and stepped forward. "A core tenant of our Order is seeing beyond deception, ignoring all distractions to find the truth. I wonder if you have the skill to grasp these more complex lessons."

It was a challenge, and he never turned down a challenge. He took a breath, forced the pain down, and focused all his remaining strength. "I can do this."

"Hmph, we'll see."

The Council led him from their chambers to an outside secluded garden. A thicket of trees lined the outermost boundaries providing complete privacy, while several rocks ranging in size littered the area. Bastila stood beside a particularly large stone, a troubled look twisting her features, and it only grew when she caught sight of him. She bowed respectfully to each of her masters but purposefully ignored him.

"The final test is simple. Retrieve the rock by any means," Master Vandar explained.

"What rock? Which one?"

"Knight Shan will show you." Master Vandar gestured for Bastila, and she extended her hand forward. The largest boulder in the garden's center began to rise as if hoisted up by an invisible tether. It hovered about a meter off the ground, and there, hidden in its shadow, was a small flat rock. She lowered the boulder back into place. He stared at the large stone, not even sure where to begin. How was he supposed to lift that? He had no training and no idea of how to lift something with his mind. His only experience with the Force came from uncontrollable outbursts when he was in danger. Never had he tried to use it purposefully.

"Please, retrieve the rock."

They were all watching him closely now; even Bastila couldn't take her eyes off him as he stepped forward. He just needed to concentrate, take a breath, and focus. The rest would come to him like it always did. He concentrated on the boulder, reaching out with the Force and wrapping it around the stone. He yanked hard, imagining that he was tugging on an unseen rope and pulley, and the boulder tipped back an inch. Shock and excitement coursed through his veins like liquid fire spurring him to pull harder. The rock rose a fraction of an inch, and the more Avner pulled, the higher it went. He could do this, just a few more-.

Suddenly, searing pain erupted within his head, driving him to his knees. He had ignored the mounting pressure building behind his eyes, instead focusing solely on completing the task before him, but the ever-present mental wall had reared up again. And this time, it seemed insurmountable. His stomach twisted in on itself, and he had to swallow hard to keep the bile bubbling up from his gut down. He tried in vain to lift the boulder again, but the burning pain stabbed deeper into his brain like someone driving a hot blade into his skull. He cried out, the agony unlike anything he had ever felt, and crumpled completely. He was shaking like a scared newborn babe, teeth clacking together so hard he was afraid he might bite through his tongue. A small hand found his shoulder, and a soothing balm rushed through his mind pushing back the pain and allowing him to gather himself. Master Vandar stood beside him, green eyes filled with concern.

"We're done here," Master Vrook said, turning to leave.

"Wait!" Avner reached out again, desperate to lift the stone as he had done before. Nothing happened. "I can do it."

"You can barely stand. You have no control, no power, and barely any skill. A child could do more than you," Vrook intoned coldly. "No, this is the extent of your ability. You will never be a Jedi."

"Give him another chance!" Bastila stepped in again on his behalf. "He can do it! I know he can!"

"He is a lost cause."

"It would be cruel to ask him to continue, Knight Shan. Can't you see that using the Force pains him?" Master Dorak laid a withered hand on her shoulder but didn't even glance at the Kiffar, still hunched low on the ground.

She shrugged off his hand and dropped to her knees beside him. "He deserves another chance."

"Why do you insist on him so much?" Master Vrook asked, clear frustration echoing in his voice.

"Because he saved my life," Bastila said softly, and her gray eyes met his brown. "He helped me, and now… it's only right that I help him. I've seen his potential… we…" She trailed off and looked away. The look of unease had returned.

"Bastila?" Master Vandar gently probed, and she met his gaze.

"We… shared a dream." Again her eyes flitted to his, and a jolt ripped through Avner's body. Did she also share his bizarre vision from the other night? "It was of Revan and Malak searching some of the ancient ruins here on Dantooine."

And word for word, it was the same things he had envisioned, and a cold shock curled around his heart. "How?"

She looked down, almost guiltily. "Your presence came to me in the dream. It's not the first time it has happened; I've felt it ever since-."

"Bastila!" It was Master Vrook who interrupted, looking displeased and also a bit scared.

She ducked her head even lower but continued. "…Ever since Taris. I don't know how this happened, but it can't be ignored. We can't leave him like this."

Silence was all that greeted her plea as the gathered masters exchanged long looks with each other. Avner wondered if they were all communicating telepathically, having an unheard frantic argument all in their minds. Finally, it was Master Zhar who stepped forward after a few tense minutes.

"Sharing visions does not mean one is suited to become a Jedi or undertake the necessary training. His small latent abilities could be feeding off of your own, Knight Shan. We stand by the decision to not progress any further."

"What if I can prove to you that I can do this?" Avner asked. The pain was ebbing away now, and he could think clearly again. He wanted to prove these people wrong. He wanted to learn, to better understand what was happening to him.

Zhar shook his head somberly. "You have already failed."

"I failed one test but passed the first one! That proves I have something, right?"

They didn't agree with his reasoning, but none voiced disagreement either.

He pointed to the boulder again. "If I get your rock, will that be enough proof? Will you help me then?"

"Heh, if you can retrieve the stone, we'll do more than help; we'll personally train you," Master Vrook replied coolly. Avner felt a rush of hope, a buzz that settled into the base of his skull as he glimpsed the answers he had sought for so long, now dangling right in front of him. But Vrook snatched it all away with one callous smile. "But you'll never get that rock. You will never be a Jedi."

It was said with such chilling certainty that it drove his hope deep into the ground. Suddenly he felt like the tiny rock trapped beneath the huge boulder. The crushing weight felt as though it could shatter his spine instantly, and he realized then that no one here believed he could do it. Bastila's very vocal defense had suddenly quieted, and she looked uncertain. Even kind Master Vander eyed him with doubt. Worse still, more amongst the gathered Jedi did not want him to succeed. He could see it in their eyes and read it behind their calm words.

"But by all means…" Master Vrook gestured to the boulder in an almost mocking manner before leaving with Masters Dorak and Zhar. Bastila trailed behind them, shooting him one last confused look before disappearing from sight. Only Master Vandar remained, eyes trained on him with startling familiarity.

"I can do this." He was unsure who he was trying to convince, Master Vandar or himself.

But Vandar's doubt washed away at his insistence, and he smiled. "You will do this, Avner. Now, clear your mind."

He spent the next few days with Master Vandar. Sometimes they were in the garden, while other times, they walked the verdant plains side by side. Tokare eased him into using the Force, starting small with him coaxing his senses ever outward, distinguishing a sentient being from a feral animal, and better prepared him to fend off the mental attacks he had so clumsily warded off days earlier. It all came slowly, like learning to walk for the first time. Frustration bubbled up in him on more than one occasion when he tried to push past the mental wall in his mind. Each time he was thrown down and left simmering in pain. But the pain fed him; the fire licking beneath his skin pushed him to work harder, delve deeper, and climb higher. And little by little, he began to scale the wall.

Throughout it all, Master Vandar never lost his patience, even when progress was almost nonexistent, and Avner stormed off after a grueling day with no reward. The old Jedi was kind, never once holding his outbursts against him, instead redirecting his blazing emotions back toward the task at hand. The days were long, and sometimes spent in his own company, Tokare called away to take care of other matters with the Council. He spent the time meditating, putting all his mental strength into overcoming the things that had chained him down for years. In between these meditations, Canderous goaded him into a few sparring matches, and Avner found himself learning much from the Mandalorian in terms of combat. He adopted a few of the older man's moves and relished in the familiar burn of his muscles being pushed to their limit. Carth, Mission, and Zaalbar all gathered around him as he trained relentlessly; each giving their own form of support and doing their best to help him where they could.

Bastila kept her distance, though. He would sometimes catch a fleeting glance of her back hurrying away from him or see her watching him from within the Temple as he and Master Vandar trained in the rock garden. She said nothing to him, and any time he tried to approach her, she conveniently flitted away. It hurt. He didn't want to admit it, but it did. He would never understand how she had gone from passionately defending him to now again treating him like the plague. Perhaps her masters had finally convinced her that he truly was a lost cause not worthy of her time. They all certainly seemed unimpressed with anything he did. Their cutting looks would throw him back to his childhood, where the miners aboard the asteroid facility he had grown up on would glare at him as he rushed between them. He had always been in the way, an unwanted nuisance scraping at their boots. It seemed like those attitudes had followed him into the present with how the other Jedi regarded him. Inferior, no more than an untrained dog, heeling and begging for scraps. Resentment seethed beneath the surface of his being, compounding on the hurt from his youth, adding to the already impossibly high wall in his psyche.

"You're angry."

He glanced down at Master Vandar. They were in the rock garden again, and he had been trying in vain to lift the boulder, but every time it rose a few inches from the field, his mind betrayed him, and the pain drove the rock back into the ground. Sweat beaded his brow, and his muscles ached even though he hadn't done anything physically challenging. He had half a mind to just charge the rock and try to push it over. He had already tried lifting it a few times, but the thing was immovable.

"What? You sense it or something?" It was a bit belligerent, but Vandar took it all in stride.

"I don't need to sense it. It's written clear across your face; you carry it with you everywhere you go." His tone held no judgment, only concern, and Avner felt his defenses lower. It was strange, things he had never told anyone before he had shared with the tiny Jedi Master in the past few days they had spent together. The kind man could coax memories from him with gentle ease, like how his childhood had been spent toiling within the harsh conditions of an Outer Rim mining facility, the accident that had nearly taken his life, and… his mother. His smile reminded him of her.

He shrugged, though, and sat beside Tokare. "I guess it's just something that's always been there… even when I was a kid."

Vandar nodded solemnly as he also sat down. "I see. You know, you remind me of another young man I once trained years ago. He also carried a lot of anger within him, and it drove him down a dark path."

"How so?"

"He was very sensitive to the suffering of others. It always weighed heavily upon him those he could not help. He had been exceedingly strong in the Force, and with that strength, he believed he could save every being, right any wrong."

"What happened to him?"

A faraway look entered Vandar's eyes, and he blinked hard. "He never learned how to let go of his anger. The hurt from his past and the hardships he experienced during the Mandalorian Wars only grew, twisting him into a mere husk of who he had been. He became arrogant about his power and turned his anger that he held against the Mandalorians on the Jedi… once a sworn protector… now an enemy…"

"Are you talking about Malak?" He had heard rumors that the current leader of the Sith had once been a Jedi, but it couldn't be true. The Jedi may be pious windbags, but there was no way any of them could stoop so low as to join the enemy… destroy entire planets.

"No, Malak was always a follower. Though he also held a great grudge against the Jedi, he would never have left on his own accord. Revan was always the initiator."

"Wait… Revan was a Jedi? I thought that was just some allegation, Sith propaganda to further discredit the Jedi. Wasn't he just some military advisor?" Avner asked. So many lies had been spewed during the war, blame cast upon both the Jedi and the military for the Sith lord's rise to power, but he had largely ignored most of it. What did it matter to him where two psychopaths came from? They would die all the same, preferably with a blaster bolt between the eyes.

"No, he was a member of our Order. During the war, he became discouraged by the Jedi's lack of involvement in protecting the people from the Mandalorians. He demanded to know why the Masters were stepping back… why we were abandoning the galaxy. Nothing they said would satisfy him, so he left and joined the Republic military. He won battle after battle, and many young Jedi rallied to his cause to defend the weak. But for all the good he did, he only fell further into the void, consumed by his own anger." Master Vandar turned his gaze to the sky, where white clouds passed overhead. "Tragic… he joined the darkness to save the light, except he never returned."

"I'm sorry you lost your student, Master Vandar, but what does that have to do with me?"

Tokare regarded him with a long-suffering look. "If you do not let go of your anger, Avner, it will consume you like it did Revan. This is not some simple Jedi or Sith problem or a cautionary tale about the pull of the Dark Side of the Force. Anger left to fester, hurt not properly healed, can slowly eat away at you until nothing is left. This is true for any being. The mental block in your mind can be overcome, but only if you have the strength to conquer it."

"I've tried, Master Vandar," Avner began, but his small friend cut him off.

"No! You have tried in anger and with your own power. Try no more, do this time. Go forward with the Force! The only walls stopping you are the ones you let keep you chained!" Master Vandar turned to him fully now. "Besides, there are many ways around a wall besides going over it."

He stared down at the wizened master, then turned his gaze upon the boulder. Suddenly it was no longer just a stone sitting amongst the others but rather an amalgamation of all his life's hurt and anger, and fear. And he was once again the tiny rock trapped beneath its behemoth weight, struggling to break free and forge a new life away from his old one. Vandar was right, though; no matter how far he ran or how hard he fought, if he didn't release the resentment wrapped around his very being, it would continue to crush him into the ground. So he adopted a firm stance, fists clenched tightly at his sides and inhaled a long deep breath. He again envisioned a rope and pulley tied around the boulder and began to tug resolutely. The stone wobbled back and forth. The pain was starting to build again more and more in his head the harder he pulled, the wall in his mind fast approaching.

It was upon him now, imposing and impossibly high, the pain now beginning to spike to a fever pitch. He did not attempt to climb it, though; instead, focusing all his might on the section in front of him. And he struck. He saw his fists hit the wall again and again, agony white-hot like a spear digging into his brain, stabbing at him with every mental blow. He wouldn't stop, though; he would break through this time and prove to everyone that he was more than just some lost soul abandoned to the void. He would prove it to himself. The anger and hurt tried to wrap around his throat, but he pulled free from their stranglehold and railed against the barrier, cracks beginning to splinter under his near-constant barrage. A lance of fear shot down his spine as the fissures grew larger. What if he shattered his mind when he finally broke down this wall?

No!

He would not be swayed, would not be cowered. This thing didn't belong here, and he wanted it gone. He wrestled his fear and anger down, releasing more of it with every strike he made. He was nearly there now… just… a… few… more…

And the wall came crashing down. He has broken free to the other side, the pain nothing more than a dull throb now; his past hurt and resentment while still there were now nestled comfortably into a small part of his mind. Where it had once been wrapped around every fiber of his being, it now was pushed back. Time would be needed to fully come to terms with it all, but at least he could finally breathe at ease again. The Force flowed freely from him now, unbound from the chains that had held it down before, and he was brought back to Yavin IV, trapped deep in the dark temple when he had first let go and taken the plunge into the unknown… who knew it would have led him here?

"Well done, Avner."

Master Vandar's voice broke through to him, and he opened his eyes. The nearest boulder was hovering a few meters off the ground along with every other rock within the garden. They rotated slowly around him like planets orbiting the sun as he strode forward and plucked the smallest rock out of the air. As he turned, they dropped back to the ground, and he gave Master Vandar a wide grin. The old master returned it, guiding him through the enclave to the Grand Council Hall, where the other members were gathered.

He threw his stone to Master Vrook, who caught it deftly. "What is this?"

"My rock."