Prologue.

  I was only eight years old when the Jedi told me I would never be one of them. Despite my fine control over the objects I moved with my mind, they judged my raw power too low, my midi-chlorian count insufficient. I would never become a Jedi Knight or wield a lightsaber with any true skill. Their decision was swift and final.

  They cast me out with nowhere to go. It was then that I first glimpsed the cold, calculating nature of the Jedi. To them, I was a failed investment, a child without worth, discarded like a malfunctioning droid. Normally, they would have sent someone like me to the Jedi Service Corps, to serve in less demanding roles. But Master Yoda chose otherwise. He had me expelled outright. Why he made that choice, I’ll never understand.

  Some argued in my favor. I remember one voice of kindness, a Jedi who insisted that I should at least be allowed into the Service Corps. Even if I could never become a Jedi Knight, I could still contribute in other ways. I think of him sometimes. Years later, when I heard of Anakin Skywalker's rise to Jedi Knight, I found myself genuinely happy for him—despite the bitterness that lingered in my own heart.

  But there was someone else, someone who was like a brother to me. Zett, a Padawan years ahead, was the one who found me as an abandoned newborn and brought me to the Order. He believed in me and saw potential where the others saw none.

  When I was expelled, they sent me to apprentice under a mechanic in the lower levels of Coruscant. Zett, in his only act of rebellion, broke the rules to help me. He slipped me a handwritten letter, filled with instructions on how to continue my training in the Force on my own. It wasn’t much, but it was more than anyone else gave me. Those notes guided me as far as my meager powers could go. When Order 66 came, they dragged his lifeless body into the streets, and my heart broke all over again.

  In the mechanic shop, I buried myself in the trade—fixing droids, repairing starship components, trying to forget what I had lost. My apprenticeship changed hands after my first mentor died in a hyperdrive malfunction, while I was out buying parts on a list he’d given me. His sudden death was a grim reminder of how fragile life in the lower levels could be.

  I moved on, taking a position with a master repair mechanic in Jedha City. I chose Jedha for its connection to the Force, hoping to find some lost wisdom in its ancient temples. But as the years passed, hope turned to frustration. The temples held their secrets tightly, and the knowledge I sought remained beyond my grasp.

  And yet, even as the years slipped by, a part of me held on to the belief I may become more than a mechanic.

  Chapter 1.

  Thump. A broken droid crashed to the ground as I threw it down in exasperation. "Ten freaking years!" I cursed under my breath, my voice barely filling the empty shop.

  Ten years and all I’d managed was starting my little repair shop. I’d never been permitted entry into the Temple of the Kyber. Only the high guardians or priests could access the inner chambers, and everything else yielded no secrets, no new insights.

  The bell above my shop door creaked, signaling the entrance of another customer. I forced my expression into a mask of neutrality, ready to greet whoever wanted something fixed for cheap.

  But when I looked up, the words died on my tongue. My heart skipped a beat. There she stood—Teya. My childhood friend from the Padawan Academy. To anyone else, she might look like just another green-skinned Mirialan, but I knew it was her. Her eyes had a subtle glint, and the way she carried herself left no doubt in my mind.

  How had she survived Order 66? The Emperor’s purge wiped out nearly every Jedi six years after I was expelled, yet here she was, standing in my shabby shop. I needed to be sure. I needed answers.

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  "Good evening, customer! How can I help you?" I said, trying to sound like a typical, unassuming salesman.

  She looked around the shop, scanning the shelves filled with old droid parts and worn-out tools. "I'm mostly here to see what you're selling. Let me look around."

  I nodded, keeping my tone casual. "Alright, but let me know if you're looking for anything specific. I've got more parts in the back."

  I watched her closely, sensing the undercurrent of tension in her posture. She rattled off a list of random components, her voice betraying a slight tremor. It wasn’t just a casual visit—she was searching for something.

  "One second," I replied, turning and heading into the back room. My mind spun with possibilities. I pulled open a hidden drawer, revealing the contents within—a nearly complete lightsaber, dusty and forgotten. I built this thing years ago, back when I still clung to the hope that the Jedi were wrong about me. When I still dreamed that one day, I could become a Jedi Knight.

  But I was no longer that hopeful child. Now, I was an adult with the weight of reality pressing down on me. My abilities were too weak to ever wield this weapon properly. Even if I had a Kyber crystal, I couldn’t channel enough power to form a full blade. This saber was little more than a relic of my past.

  Still, it could serve a better purpose in Teya’s hands.

  Returning to the front, I held out the incomplete saber. "I believe this is what you're looking for."

  Teya’s eyes widened. She stumbled back, knocking over a pile of scrap and grabbing a broken droid arm. "Stay back, Imperial BASTARD!" she shouted, brandishing the arm like a weapon.

  I couldn’t help but laugh at the absurdity of it. "Pfft!"

  Her grip on the arm wavered, her expression softening into confusion. "I'm serious, I... I'll..."

  "It's me, Teya. Roan."

  Her eyes narrowed, scrutinizing me as if trying to see through a fog of memories. "Roan? That name… it’s familiar, but—"

  "You don’t remember me?" My chest tightened with a mix of disbelief and hurt.

  She blinked, realization dawning slowly. "Wait... you were that boy who had a knack for force manipulation when we were fledglings. The one who got kicked out of the Padawan program for... lack of potential."

  "Was I so unimportant that you forgot me?" I asked, my voice betraying a bitter edge.

  She looked away, her cheeks tinged with embarrassment. "We were kids, Roan. And you... just disappeared. But why didn’t they send you to the Service Corps?"

  I sighed, shoulders slumping. "Yoda had me expelled instead. I never understood why."

  "That’s not the usual protocol… it's unlike him," she murmured, a troubled look crossing her face. "At least you’re alive. I’m so glad to see you again."

  She surprised me with a sudden hug, and for a moment, the resentment I’d carried for so long softened. I hugged her back, letting myself feel the relief of seeing a familiar face.

  "How did you survive?" I asked, pulling back.

  She smiled sadly. "Remember Master Jocasta Nu, the sweet old lady in the library? She showed me a hidden passage during the purge and told me to run. She stayed behind to seal the entrance."

  I nodded, swallowing the lump in my throat. "She saved you, but she never made it out herself."

  Teya’s grip tightened on my hands. "All this time, I've been alone... but now, we can rebuild the Order together."

  I pulled away, shaking my head. "I'm no Jedi, Teya."

  "The Order is gone. Who would stop you from being part of a new one?" she asked, her voice hopeful.

  "Don't mess with me," I snapped, bitterness bubbling up again. "The Jedi cast me aside, and now I'm hunted just like you. Why would I help them when they abandoned me?"

  She looked down, her face shadowed with regret. "I'm... sorry, Roan. I should have realized how much it hurt you."

  Silence hung between us until I reached out, offering the incomplete lightsaber. "Here. This should help."

  She cradled the weapon, a reverence in her touch. "Thank you," she whispered, eyes shimmering with emotion.

  "If you get a Kyber crystal, I'd like to see you activate it," I said, trying to lighten the mood.

  Teya froze, her grip tightening on the saber. "Oh... well, I don't exactly have one yet."

  "You're looking for parts, but no crystal?" I guessed, piecing it together.

  She coughed awkwardly. "I have a plan."

  I rolled my eyes. "Probably a terrible one, knowing you."

  She smirked. "Have I ever led you astray?"

  "Always," I shot back, remembering our misadventures as kids. "So, what's this grand plan of yours?"

  She leaned closer, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "I found an entrance to a tunnel beneath the Temple of the Kyber. There must be crystals down there, enough for us both. I wanted to complete my saber first in case there’s trouble."

  I sighed, rubbing my temples. "I’m going to regret this, aren’t I?"

  Another customer bringing me a broken item they want fixed for cheap.

  Teya... My childhood friend from the Padawan Academy. Perhaps to anyone else, the young lady would look like any other green Mirialan. There's just something in her facial expressions and the way she carries herself making me certain it's her. How had she survived order 66? The emperor had all the Jedi killed 6 years after I was kicked out and now she's here... I have to make sure it's her!

  She will make better use of this than I can, I tell myself.