Re: Star Wars

The stillness of the Jedi Temple carried a different weight today.

Eli felt it the moment he woke. A tension just beneath the surface of everything—in the quiet hallways, in the glances exchanged by Knights, in the clipped pace of Temple messengers. Something had changed since yesterday.

The holopad headlines had made it official: Senator Padmé Amidala had returned to Coruscant.

He hadn't told anyone. Not about the sinking feeling in his gut, or the way the datapad headline seemed to echo louder than it should. The senator has arrived. The senator is in danger.

He just listened. Watched. Remembered.

Morning lessons were subdued. The usual playfulness between younglings was muted, replaced by focused drills and hushed discussions. Their instructors didn't explain the shift. They didn't need to.

By midday, Clan Heliost was led into one of the upper observatories to review planetary alignments and galactic star charts. An old Knight named Elbrin guided the lesson with the air of someone used to silence.

"Conflict always begins with drift," Elbrin said, gesturing to a hologram of contested sectors blinking red. "Systems lose trust. Conversations become ultimatums."

Eli sat at the edge of the circle, not watching the star charts.

He was watching the Jedi.

Their faces were calm. Their minds steady. But the Force hummed with unease.

Something was coming.

Later, walking the Temple corridors alone, Eli paused near a training room as a pair of Padawans passed by, voices low but urgent.

"They say the Senate was shaken. Explosives planted directly on the platform."

"And she survived?"

"A decoy died. Not her. She switched shuttles last second. Lucky."

Eli exhaled slowly.

Not luck, he thought. I remember this. She wasn't supposed to be the one who died. Her handmaiden took her place. It was always part of the story.

Except now it wasn't a story.

It was happening. And he was here.

That evening, as the sun turned Coruscant's sky to fire, Eli sat in a quiet study nook beside one of the Temple's inner fountains. Water whispered against the stone, masking the quiet churn of his thoughts.

He pulled out his hidden datapad. Notes filled the screen.

Amidala – assassination attempt

Jedi Council – passive

Kenobi – seen in Temple

Skywalker – assigned?

He tapped the stylus against his chin.

If the timeline holds… they should be assigned to protect her soon. The Council doesn't trust Skywalker fully yet. But Palpatine will recommend him. That was always the key.

But what if it changed?

He wasn't supposed to be here. Would his presence cause ripples? Would something alter?

And did he want it to?

Eli closed the datapad slowly.

He didn't have the answers. Not yet.

Back in the youngling dormitories, the evening bell chimed. Niyala waved him over to sit beside her during evening story lecture. A senior Padawan was reading aloud from the journals of Master Fay—a story about avoiding violence through diplomacy on Ord Cestus.

Eli tried to focus, but his eyes kept drifting.

Nearby, two older initiates were exchanging whispered words. He picked up fragments: "...extra guards at the Senate dome..." and "...Palpatine asked for Jedi personally..."

It was happening.

Later that night, while the others slept, Eli sat up under the soft glow of his bunk light and traced the names again in his datapad. He added a new one:

Palpatine – influence

That name made his pulse quicken. He didn't remember every detail—but he remembered that name mattered.

In the stories, Palpatine always smiled.

Even when he lied.

Elsewhere in the Temple—in a chamber deep within the High Council spire—the galaxy shifted.

Twelve seats ringed the platform, most occupied, some flickering with holoprojection. At the center stood Jedi Masters Mace Windu and Yoda, silent for a long moment after the latest report was played.

A holographic image of Senator Bail Organa faded from the air. His voice still lingered: "...there is rising concern among the Senate. This was no simple attempt. This was precision. We believe the Senator may still be in danger."

The Council chambers returned to silence.

Master Plo Koon spoke first, his filtered voice even. "It would not be wise to ignore this."

"Nor to overstep," said Ki-Adi-Mundi, hands steepled. "The Jedi are not the Republic's security force."

"True, that is," Yoda murmured, eyes closed. "But ignored, a shadow becomes storm."

Mace Windu turned, gaze piercing. "The Chancellor has requested we intervene."

A pause. Even Yoda lifted his head.

"Suggested he has, who we should send, yes?" the old Master asked knowingly.

Windu nodded. "Obi-Wan Kenobi. And his Padawan."

The Council exchanged glances. Debates rose like distant thunder.

Skywalker.

Impulsive. Passionate. Dangerous.

But powerful. Loyal. Capable.

And perhaps… exactly where the Chancellor wanted him.

Yoda opened his eyes, gaze far away.

"Watchful we must be," he said softly. "Dangerous, these ripples are. Begin to stir, the currents have."

"Then it's settled," Windu said at last. "Kenobi and Skywalker will be dispatched at first light."

The vote passed with quiet nods.

The next morning, just before dawn, Eli awoke to movement in the halls. He padded softly to the corridor and peeked from the archway.

Two robed figures moved in silence down the Temple steps: Obi-Wan Kenobi and Anakin Skywalker.

Their presence was calm—but the Force around them swirled with friction. Tension. Fate.

Eli gripped the edge of the doorway, watching them disappear into the Temple's vast shadow.

He didn't know if anything had changed.

But now, he was certain:

The story had begun.