// Authors note re:writing the whole story.
The first thing Eli Kaen felt was cold stone beneath his cheek.
He opened his eyes slowly, vision blurred and head pounding. The ceiling above him was high, etched with ancient reliefs. Gold and sandstone tones bathed the vast chamber, where silence clung to the air like dust. Somewhere distant, a bell chimed. Instinct urged him upright, breath catching in his chest.
This wasn't a dream.
He sat up too fast and winced as a wave of nausea surged through him. Hands planted on the mat, he blinked at the softly glowing wall panels and rows of younglings meditating nearby. They wore simple tan robes. So did he.
This isn't my bed.
He looked down at his hands. Small. Soft. No callouses. No scars.
His heart kicked in his chest.
A glint caught his eye—a polished bronze support beam reflected his image back at him. A child's face stared wide-eyed from the curved surface. Pale skin. Tousled brown hair. Familiar, but not the face he remembered from... where?
Fragments stirred in his mind like dust swept by wind. A classroom. A dark theater screen. Cities that climbed into the clouds. A name whispered on the edge of memory: Liam. But it didn't fit.
No, he wasn't Liam anymore.
He pressed his palm to his chest, half-expecting to feel his heart hammering through layers of armor or something more familiar.
But all he felt was cloth. Thin. Jedi robes.
He didn't understand what was happening, not fully. But somehow, impossibly, he knew this place. Jedi Temple. Coruscant. Home to peacekeepers of the galaxy, guardians of the Force. It wasn't fiction anymore.
He stumbled to his feet, vision still swimming. Nearby, a group of younglings practiced training forms with training staves under the guidance of an older Padawan.
"Name?"
Eli turned, startled.
A Twi'lek girl about his age stood before him, arms crossed, one blue head-tail twitching with curiosity. Her eyes scanned him with mild concern.
He hesitated. The question pressed on his mind like a weight.
"Eli," he said finally. "Eli Kaen."
The name left his lips before he could think. It felt right, familiar in a way the others did not.
The girl eyed him for a moment longer. "You okay? You spaced out there for a second. Thought you were gonna pass out."
Before he could reply, a Zabrak Padawan with a tight braid and ceremonial beads snapped, "Niyala, stop crowding him. You're late again. First bell passed."
The Twi'lek—Niyala—rolled her eyes but gave Eli a small, encouraging smile before hurrying off. The Padawan gave Eli a sharp glance and returned to instructing the others.
Eli stood there, heart still racing, trying to keep up. The name. The Temple. The robes. The Force. It wasn't a dream. He was Eli Kaen. Somehow, he'd grown up here, but now pieces of another life were surfacing. Memories of a distant world, half-forgotten, bleeding into the present like phantom echoes.
He didn't know what it meant yet.
Later that day, he was ushered through broad stone corridors echoing with footsteps and soft conversation. Jedi Masters in flowing robes passed by, discussing philosophy and star systems. Younglings ran in pairs, clutching data pads. Floating holocrons hovered near a study alcove. Everything smelled of clean stone, spicewood polish, and ionized air.
It felt like home. And yet... not.
Eli followed the group down a stairwell lined with glowing blue script in Aurebesh. His mind swirled with contradictions. He knew the Temple's layout better than any child should. He recognized chambers he hadn't entered yet. He knew what a lightsaber was, and he knew what it could do.
He knew why it mattered.
They passed a training room where a four-armed Jedi Master with green skin and calm presence taught hand-to-hand defense. Nearby, a Wookiee youngling lifted a stone with intense concentration, brow furrowed and fur rippling with effort.
Eli slowed, watching them, hands curled at his sides.
He wasn't a visitor. He wasn't a bystander. He was part of this.
But he couldn't shake the unease trailing him like a shadow.
That night, sleep avoided him.
The dorm was quiet, the others breathing in soft rhythm from their bunks. The city lights outside the tall windows painted golden shapes across the ceiling. But Eli lay still, eyes wide, gripped by something colder than fear.
Every time he closed his eyes, something rose from the dark.
Screams. Smoke.
Blaster fire echoing through ancient halls.
Children running.
Blue lightsabers clashing.
A man in a black cloak stepping through fire, his blade glowing red.
Pain, everywhere.
He bolted upright, hand clutched to his chest. Sweat chilled him under the blankets. His breath came in shallow gasps.
Where did that come from?
He slid out of bed and padded barefoot toward the window. Coruscant stretched infinitely below, a glowing metropolis of impossible scale. Air traffic streamed past like rivers of light. Somewhere out there, millions lived their lives unaware of the place he stood.
But he knew what was coming.
Or thought he did.
How?
He gritted his teeth, fingers tightening on the window's edge.
He couldn't shake the feeling: the Jedi Temple wasn't safe.
At breakfast, he sat beside the Twi'lek girl again—Niyala. She talked animatedly about Force techniques, about how she'd managed to levitate a cup for three full seconds.
Eli stared at his tray, poking at an unfamiliar blue fruit.
"Has the Temple ever been attacked before?" he asked softly.
Niyala blinked at him. "Attacked? No. Why would it? This is Coruscant. We're safe here."
He didn't respond.
She frowned. "Did you have a vision?"
His fork froze mid-air.
"I mean, I heard you fell over in meditation yesterday. Some kids said that you cried. You see something bad?"
Eli stared down. "I don't know what it was. Just... something coming."
Niyala tilted her head. "You sound like one of those old seers. My clan mentor used to say bad dreams were just the Force stirring something loose. Doesn't mean they're real."
But what if they are?
He didn't say it aloud.
Later, in the Archives, they meditated in a quiet circle surrounded by ancient holobooks and soft artificial candlelight.
Their guide this time was a calm Mirialan Jedi with gentle eyes and a composed tone. Master Ryven Tallis.
"Stillness is not the absence of thought," she said, "but the awareness of it. Let the Force carry what you do not yet understand."
Eli shut his eyes, drawing slow breaths. He reached inward.
Something waited.
Not just light or warmth or calm. Something deeper. A current. A chasm. A path.
He stepped into it without moving.
In a blink, the Archive vanished.
Flames danced across stone floors. Children ran. Screamed. Clones advanced with rifles raised. Jedi fell.
And then—
Him.
A dark figure stepping through smoke. Hooded. Lightsaber drawn.
Blue—then red.
Eli reached out, crying out through the vision.
"Please—stop—!"
He collapsed.
When he came to, he was on the floor. His heart raced. Sweat clung to his back.
Master Tallis knelt beside him.
"What did you see, child?"
Eli opened his mouth.
Then closed it.
He didn't know what to say. Not yet. Not here.
That evening, he wandered the upper balconies alone.
The sun dipped behind Coruscant's skyline, casting the Temple in gold and shadow. Wind stirred his robe. Clone troopers patrolled quietly below. Their movements were crisp, professional.
But something about them chilled him.
Not because of what they were doing.
Because of what they would do.
He gripped the railing tight.
He didn't know how or why he had ended up here, or what the Force wanted from him. But these memories—or visions—or warnings—were getting stronger.
Somehow, he had to survive.
And maybe more than that.
He closed his eyes.
"I am Eli Kaen" he whispered to the wind.
"And I won't let it end like that."