Chapter 6: A Song of Ice, Snow, and Crystals
The viewport was just a sheet of white. White sky. White clouds. White snow whipping past so hard it looked like someone had dumped a bucket of flour over Ilum and then hit "whisk" on a galactic scale.
I tugged my hood up higher, though the ship wasn't even on the ground yet. It was the principle of the thing. If a planet was this cold from orbit, the surface could only be worse.
Master Tyyyvak lumbered down the transport aisle, all fur and authority. She clapped one paw the size of my head against a youngling's scarf, tightening the knot.
"Scarves tight. Hoods up. No licking the icicles, Tallo. I see you thinking it." I like to think that over the years, I've finally managed to grasp her language without the use of a translator, or Ahsoka's helpful cues. I'm still not sure, though. At least one in ten words get lost in translation.
It's still manageable, for the most part.
"Ben, remember, please don't grrrrhhh. If you do grrrrhhh, I'll know." Except for now. Seriously?! Why is it always the most important word that slips through the cracks?
As I contemplated that conundrum, Tallo, a Mon Calamari boy with the guilty look of someone who had definitely licked an icicle before, wilted under her yellow-eyed stare. Don't worry, she's not a Sith. Just a Wookiee. Which is equally intimidating to some people.
Tyyyvak harrumphed and moved on, checking cloaks like a Wookiee mother hen. Her fur was so thick she looked more comfortable than any of us—probably thinking of this as a brisk autumn afternoon. Makes you wonder as her people evolved to have hair like that on a planet like Kashyyk.
Yoda waddled along behind her, his cane thumping against the deck plates, ears perked in amusement. He gave no actual directions, just cryptic commentary, like always.
"The journey, cold it is, yes. But warm, your hearts are, mmm. Cold cannot touch the flame of the Force."
Translation: He is thoroughly enjoying watching Master Tyyyvak herd us around like unruly loth-kittens.
Ahsoka snickered from where she sat buckled in across from me. "You look like you're going to war with that hood."
"I am going to war," I muttered. "Against frostbite. It's a noble battle." Don't get me wrong, I still prefer it to heat. But let's be honest, when they're both in the extremes, they're both equally terrible.
She rolled her eyes. "It's just snow."
"'Just snow,' she says. Easy for you—your montrals probably work like built-in earmuffs."
"They do not!"
"Do too."
She kicked my boot under the bench, grinning, which only proved I was right.
The ship rocked as it pushed lower through the storm. The engines groaned, fighting turbulence. My breath fogged the air, and I huddled deeper into my cloak. A thought crossed my mind, half complaint and half epiphany: why did the Jedi never issue heroic blankets?
You could still look dramatic striding into danger if you wrapped it properly. Hooded blanket, trailing behind like a cape. Jedi Symbol embroidered. Cozy on the inside, intimidating on the outside. Perfect.
Instead, we got lightsabers. Which, admittedly…
I tapped my chin, considering. A lightsaber probably gave off a decent amount of heat if you held it close. Probably not recommended, though. "Master, can I use my lightsaber as a portable hand-warmer once I build it?" sounded like a fast-track ticket to detention.
The ship bucked again, dropping us half a meter before catching itself. A few younger initiates squeaked. Tyyyvak rumbled something reassuring in Shyriiwook, her tone equal parts "don't worry" and "if you fall out of your seat I'll personally glue you back in."
I gave Ahsoka a sidelong glance. She was leaning forward, bright-eyed, watching the viewport like the snowstorm was an adventure waiting to happen instead of a recipe for hypothermia. Typical.
I tried to picture what Ilum's crystal caves would actually look like—whether the Force really spoke to you like the Masters said, or if it was more of a vague "trust your gut and don't freeze to death" situation.
Either way, I was starting to wish the Force handed out free coats.
...
The shuttle touched down with a crunch that rattled through my teeth. The moment the ramp hissed open, the wind howled in like it had been waiting just to punch us in the face.
Snow whipped sideways, stinging my cheeks and working its way instantly into my hood. My heroic blanket fantasy from earlier felt about ten times more justified now.
"Scarves tight!" Tyyyvak bellowed over the storm, spreading his furry arms like a snow-drenched wampa. "Hoods up! Tallo. What did I tell you about those icicles?"
Tallo, predictably, looked guilty.
Yoda hopped down the ramp last, staff in hand, and stood planted against the storm like it wasn't even there. His ears flapped in the wind, but his expression was all serenity. Probably on purpose. Jedi loved pretending weather didn't exist.
"Here, the heart of Ilum beats," he called, voice carrying clear despite the blizzard. "Sacred, this place is. To young Jedi it whispers… calling, guiding, testing. Fear not the storm—for within, shines light."
He gave us his best wise-cryptic smile, like he'd just solved the galaxy's hardest riddle, and then gestured toward the looming shape ahead.
Through the storm, the Temple finally came into focus—half-buried in the cliffside, massive ice pillars marking its entrance. The doors were shut tight, glowing faintly with veins of frost. The whole thing radiated ominous homework assignment.
Ahsoka leaned close enough to shout in my ear. "So, do you think we get graded on this?"
"Probably pass/fail," I muttered, pulling my hood tighter. "Hope the Force is a generous grader."
Tyyyvak herded us down the ramp like a pack of freezing banthas, checking hoods, tugging mittens, glaring at any exposed wrists. The snow crunched deep under my boots as we trudged into the whiteout, toward the waiting Temple.
It loomed ahead, carved straight into the mountainside like some giant had taken a chisel to the ice. Smooth pillars of frozen stone framed the entrance, their surfaces shimmering faintly in the pale light. It was beautiful, sure, but mostly it just looked cold. Colder than outside. Which seemed unfair.
The giant doors groaned open as if they hadn't been touched in centuries, even though I was pretty sure Yoda and Tyyyvak dragged kids here every year. Probably just for dramatic effect. The Jedi did love their drama.
Inside, the air shifted—still, heavy, colder than before. The shadows swallowed the last of the light from outside.
Tyyyvak stopped us at the threshold, snow melting in his thick fur, and spread his arms wide like he was about to hug the entire group. His voice rumbled low.
"No one can walk this path for you."
That alone might've been enough, but then Yoda just had to pipe up from somewhere around knee height. "Yet beside you, the Force walks always." His eyes twinkled like he'd just delivered the greatest punchline in the galaxy. "Though separate your paths lead you, alone you are not."
I folded my arms. "So… Force babysitter. Got it."
Tyyyvak huffed, maybe amused, maybe just exasperated. Hard to tell with all the fur.
One by one, the others stepped inside. The shadows seemed to swallow them whole. Ahsoka shot me a quick grin before disappearing through the archway. Maris went without a word, her hood pulled low over her eyes. The rest followed, and suddenly it was just me, Yoda, and a wall of darkness.
I swallowed. My boots crunched on the frost. Then I stepped forward, into the caves.
...
The storm's howl dulled the moment the ice doors shuddered open. A sharp, crystalline crack echoed through the cavernous chamber, like the Temple itself was sighing awake.
Inside was shadow and silence. The only sound was the crunch of our boots as we stepped onto the frost-glazed stone. Our breaths misted in the cold, curling pale against the dark.
We bunched together instinctively, thirteen small shapes wrapped in oversized robes. The storm still battered the mountain outside, but in here, the silence pressed heavier than the snow ever could.
Ahsoka flexed her fingers, fighting the urge to grab Ben's sleeve. The caves loomed ahead like a yawning throat, dark tunnels branching off in every direction.
"Creepy," Ben muttered, voice just loud enough to carry. "This is literally every horror story setup ever. Group of kids in the haunted cave system. Step one: don't split up."
A nervous ripple went through the group. No one moved forward. The tunnels waited, black mouths gaping, and for a moment the only sound was the wind moaning faintly through the cracks in the door behind them.
Maris broke the silence. "That's not what Master Tyyyvak said." Her voice carried sharp in the stillness, colder than the ice under their boots. She pushed back her hood, pale features stark against the gloom. "Remember? 'No one else can walk this path for you.'" She glanced from one face to the next, amber eyes steady. "We can't huddle together like scaredlings. If this is a test, then it's ours alone."
Ahsoka bristled at the certainty in her tone. Maris always spoke like that—like she already knew the right answer, like she was two steps ahead of the rest of them. It grated on her, especially when the others seemed to take her words as gospel. But at the same time… Ahsoka couldn't deny there was conviction there, a kind of quiet steel she hadn't found in herself yet.
Suspicion and irritation curled in her chest, but so did something else. Curiosity. Respect, maybe. Not that she'd admit it out loud.
Ben opened his mouth like he wanted to argue, but his eyes flicked to Ahsoka and then back to Maris. He shut it again with a huff, shoulders slumping.
One by one, the others began peeling away into the tunnels, drawn by something only they could sense. Ahsoka lingered, torn between sticking close and stepping out on her own. Maris was right—no one else could walk this path for her.
She just hated that it was Maris who had to say it.
The stupid, fiend-stealing little—Jedi thoughts, Ahsoka. Jedi thoughts.
She took a deep breath, to center herself. And lingered a moment longer, to steal a glance at Ben.
He shot her a look that was half a smirk, half a grimace. They were both thinking the same thing. Dumb idea. But they're doing it anyway.
And that was the thing about Ben. He always said the thoughts she tried to bury—the sarcastic, the skeptical, the worried—and somehow it made the weight easier to carry. He didn't make the fear go away, but he made it less lonely.
Still, there was no use clinging to him now. No one else can walk this path for her.
So she squared her shoulders, tightened her hood, and stepped into the dark.
...
The cold deepened as she walked, sharp enough to sting in her chest. The tunnel shifted around her, the walls of ice catching flickers of reflected light that weren't there a moment ago. Her own footfalls seemed to echo too loud, as though the cave itself was listening.
Then the pressure came. Not physical, not entirely—it was the Force pressing against her skin, against her thoughts, as though it wanted to peel her open and look inside.
She inhaled slowly. Just the cave. Just the Force.
But then the tunnel changed.
The shadows sharpened, reshaping themselves into jagged outlines. Ice under her boots cracked and turned to dust. Frosted walls melted into metal bulkheads scorched black with fire. The air filled with smoke.
Ahsoka froze.
Blasterfire rattled down the corridor. Shouts cut through the haze. Shapes surged around her—armored figures in white, with helmets that gleamed like bone. They moved in unison, their steps loud, their rifles snapping to aim.
"Commander!" one of them shouted over the chaos. "Your orders?"
She blinked, startled. Commander?
And then she saw him.
Ben, just a few steps ahead, igniting a lightsaber that wasn't there a moment before. His expression was tight with focus, the usual easy humor gone. He looked at her like he expected her to know what to do.
Her mouth went dry.
"Commander!" another armored soldier called, voice sharp with urgency. Enemies—dark shapes—were charging down the smoke-filled corridor. Too many. Far too many.
Her heart thudded. She had no idea what to say. No plan. No clue who these soldiers even were.
I'm not a commander. I'm ten.
But they were looking at her like their lives depended on it.
"Uh—hold formation!" she shouted, forcing the words out. Her voice cracked, but the soldiers obeyed instantly, lining up, rifles firing into the advancing shadows.
For a heartbeat, it worked. The enemy stumbled.
Then the left flank broke. Screams. Armor crumpling under blasterfire. One soldier fell, then another, and another.
Ben yelled something she couldn't hear, diving forward to block a strike. A blade of red light clashed against his.
The battle dissolved into chaos.
Her chest heaved. This was wrong. Every order she gave seemed to make it worse. Too slow, too hesitant. She shouted to retreat, and more soldiers fell in the scramble. She ordered them to hold, and they were overrun.
One by one, the white-armored figures collapsed, their voices cutting off into silence.
"No," she whispered, throat tight. "No, no, no—"
Through the ringing in her ears, Yoda's voice cut like a bell.
"The burden of command, heavy it is. To lead… is to risk. To choose… is to bear."
Her knees hit the ground. The acrid smoke burned her lungs. Around her lay the fallen, faceless soldiers, and Ben among them—still, silent.
Her vision blurred. "I—I didn't mean to—"
The guilt coiled sharp in her stomach. A weight heavier than the storm outside, heavier than anything she'd carried before.
But beneath it, another voice stirred. Not words. Just the quiet sense of the Force pressing close. Waiting.
She bowed her head, clutching her fists. "I won't let it happen again," she whispered hoarsely. "Never again."
The smoke thinned. The sounds of blasters faded. Slowly, the battlefield melted back into the icy cavern, leaving only silence.
And in the silence—light.
A shard of crystal jutted from the ice wall ahead, glowing faintly, as though it had been waiting for her all along. Its glow was small, but steady. Warm.
Her breath caught. She reached out.
The moment her fingers brushed it, the cave seemed to exhale. The light flared, brighter, pulsing with her heartbeat. The guilt in her chest didn't vanish, but the crystal seemed to answer it: You can grow. You can lead. You can become worthy.
Ahsoka closed her eyes, pressing the crystal to her palm. She wasn't ready yet. Not even close.
But she would be.
...
The others' footsteps faded almost as soon as they began. One moment, the group had been clustered in the frozen antechamber; the next, the tunnels shifted around them, narrowing and twisting like living veins of ice. Maris felt the separation like a door slamming shut.
She stopped, head snapping back over her shoulder. The faint outlines of the others were gone, swallowed by shadow and frost. The only sound was the crunch of her own boots on the frozen floor.
Good.
Her jaw tightened, though she forced her pace to remain steady. She didn't need them. She never had.
The tunnel curved deeper into the mountain, walls glittering with shards of frozen crystal. Her breath puffed white in front of her, quickening despite her attempts to steady it. With each step, the silence grew heavier. Not empty silence — thick, suffocating, like something waiting just beyond her perception.
Then came the whisper.
Maris.
She froze. The sound didn't echo — it slipped into her ear like breath against her skin, intimate and cold.
Her fingers curled. "Who's there?"
The tunnel did not answer. But the shadows in the ice seemed to shift, curling in long, dark tendrils. Shapes almost formed — clawed hands, reaching, retreating. And then, words again:
No one will ever look down on you again.
Her heart slammed against her ribs.
No one will ever dismiss you. Scorn you. Forget you.
Her teeth clenched. She knew that voice. Not the tone — the tone was soft, insidious, coaxing. But the meaning behind it, the promise? She had heard it all her life, unspoken in the way Masters corrected her too quickly, in the way peers avoided her gaze, in the way even Tano looked at her sometimes like she was a problem waiting to happen.
The shadows coiled tighter.
Take it. Take your place. Power is yours if you want it.
The ice walls ahead shuddered. Out from them stepped a figure — tall, cloaked, the hood shadowing a pale face.
Her own face.
Yellow eyes gleamed in the darkness, sickly bright. The double's lips curved into a slow smile.
"You know what we could be," the shadow-Mariss said, voice deeper, resonant. "If you stop clinging to their approval. If you stop waiting for them to see you."
Her hand extended, pale fingers tipped in frost.
Maris's throat dried. She stared at the hand, her own hand, offered like a lifeline. The shadow radiated confidence, certainty — the kind she forced herself to mimic every day, but never quite felt. This other version wore it naturally, like a second skin.
"Take my hand," the double coaxed. "No one will ever look down on us again. Not Jedi, not Masters, not anyone."
Her own fingers twitched upward.
She imagined the look on Tano's face — on Ben's face — if she came out of these caves glowing with a crystal already attuned, strong enough to silence every whisper behind her back. They would have to respect her. They would have no choice.
The shadow smiled wider, sensing the crack. "Yes. You've always known the truth, haven't you? You're meant for more."
Maris's breath came fast, clouding in the frigid air. Her hand rose higher, almost meeting its twin.
And then—
Tyyyvak's voice echoed in her mind. Calm. Deep. Certain.
"No one leaves Ilum without the crystal meant for them."
Her hand stopped an inch short.
The shadow's smile faltered.
If she took that hand, what would she be holding? It wasn't a crystal. It wasn't hers. It was a shortcut — a promise built on chains she couldn't yet see.
"No."
The word cracked in the air, sharp and loud.
Her hand dropped back to her side.
The shadow's yellow eyes flared, rage boiling through the false calm. "Fool." The tendrils lashed out, striking toward her — but the ice walls shuddered again, fissures of light breaking through the dark.
The ground trembled beneath her boots.
And there, in the fracture of the frozen wall, something glowed. A shard of crystal, small and faint, its light hesitant. As though uncertain if she deserved it.
Maris staggered toward it, breath ragged. The shadows clawed at her ankles, but the glow grew stronger the closer she came. She dropped to one knee, pressing her palm to the ice, and the shard broke free into her waiting hand.
It was warm. Against the cold, against the dark, it pulsed gently, steady and alive. Not triumphant — not blazing like the others might find. But it was there.
Hers.
Behind her, the shadow hissed, retreating into the walls. Its yellow eyes lingered longest, burning holes into her as they sank back into the frost.
Maris clutched the crystal tighter. Its glow was fragile, but real.
She wasn't free of the whisper. Not yet. She could still feel it coiled somewhere deep in her chest, waiting.
But for now, she had chosen.
And the cavern released her.
...
The cave closed in around me faster than the others. One second I was squinting through shadows with the group, the next I blinked and—bam. Nothing. Just me, my own breath, and a tunnel that looked like a frostbitten gundark's throat.
"Great," I muttered. "First rule of scary caves: don't split up. So naturally the cave itself splits me up. Fantastic start."
The walls shimmered faintly, catching some glow that didn't have a source. Every crunch of my boots echoed like it belonged to someone else. I hugged my robe tighter, more for nerves than warmth, though Force knew I was freezing.
Then I heard it.
"Ben."
My stomach plummeted. That wasn't a cave-echo. That was Satine. Her voice, careful, clipped, but carrying a warmth I hadn't realized I'd been starved of until now.
"Ben!" Another voice joined it. Korkie. My idiot twin. Brash and loud and already sounding like he'd gotten himself lost again.
My heart just about somersaulted into my throat. I bolted forward before my brain caught up.
"Korkie? M- Aunt Satine?" My voice cracked like I was back in prepubescent Temple choir. "Where are you—"
And then he was there.
Obi-Wan.
Blocking the tunnel like the world's politest roadblock. His silhouette was lit from nowhere, beard neat, robes exactly as they always were. He looked younger than the real one—less tired—but his eyes… his eyes carried centuries.
"Stay," he said softly. "Please."
I skidded to a stop, boots scraping ice. "What?"
"The galaxy will tear you apart if you walk away. You are safer here, with us. With me."
I blinked at him. My pulse was still thundering, but sarcasm filled the gap panic left behind. "Oh, so we're doing the cryptic trauma theatre thing today? Excellent. Ten out of ten, very immersive staging. Truly, Master Kenobi, the Academy would be proud."
He didn't so much as twitch a smile. Which, honestly, was peak Obi-Wan.
I gestured vaguely at the walls. "You're not real. And no offense, but the real you would've already sighed at me by now. Possibly rubbed your temples."
"Ben." His tone sharpened. "Listen to me. You cannot leave. You will lose everything if you do."
I froze. Because the thing about visions? They always know how to jab at your ribs where it hurts most.
And stars help me, he looked almost desperate. Like the real Obi-Wan when he tried not to show he cared too much.
But still—Satine's voice called again. Korkie's too.
I shook my head, throat tight. "Sorry, Kenobi. Family trumps theatre." I sidestepped him and ran.
The moment I turned away, the cave warped.
The ground dipped, ice cracking beneath me like glass. I stumbled, tried to steady myself—but when I looked up, I wasn't in a cave anymore.
I was standing in Mandalore's throne room.
I'd only been there a few times, but I knew those soaring arches, that cold marble floor. Except now, it was darker. Shadows clung to the corners like cobwebs. And on the throne—
"Ah." My voice went dry. "Well. That's… not supposed to happen."
Maul sat there.
Red-and-black tattoos gleamed beneath the throne's pale light. His horns glinted sharp as blades. His yellow eyes locked on me like a predator sighting dinner.
"So," he purred, voice rolling like thunder over glass. "You have chosen a new path."
I swallowed hard. "…Hi. Love what you've done with the place. Very cozy."
He rose slowly, deliberate, like a krayt dragon stretching its claws.
"Shun the light," he said. "And darkness will follow."
Shadows bled from the floor around him, coiling like serpents. And then—they weren't shadows anymore.
They were people.
One by one, figures stepped out of the dark. Dooku, looming with aristocratic disdain. Ventress, pale grin sharp enough to cut glass. Savage, hulking brute, eyes blazing. Sidious, crooked and cold, every inch of him whispering corruption. Vader, faceless mask breathing like a nightmare. Inquisitors fanned out, sabers hissing to life.
I was surrounded.
"Oh." My laugh came out thin. "The whole family reunion. Lovely. I don't suppose you brought catering?"
They didn't answer. They just closed in.
Each one was a storm of power and rage. I could feel it through the Force, pressing down on me until my knees wobbled.
Dooku's voice slithered over the rest. "So much potential, wasted on childish defiance."
Ventress chuckled. "He won't last a day."
Vader's respirator rasped like a death knell.
Sidious leaned forward, grin splitting. "You will be ours."
My chest tightened. They weren't just Sith. They were every insecurity I'd ever tried to laugh off. Every failure I hadn't lived through yet but already felt looming.
It was too much.
Too many.
"Right," I breathed, pulse hammering. "Survive first, therapy later."
I didn't wait for them to strike. Instinct roared, and I bolted for the throne's side passage. I'd been here before. I knew Mandalore's palace had hidden ways—Satine had whispered it once with that little half-smile.
My boots pounded marble, then stone, then ice again as the passage warped beneath me. The Sith shadows followed, but I ducked and dove and scrambled like a rat in a maze.
The Force screamed danger at me every second. Blades hissed too close, lightning cracked near my back, snarls echoed through the walls.
But I didn't stop.
Because stopping meant letting them win.
And if there's one thing I'd learned about myself? Even against nightmares, I was too stubborn to quit.
...
Ahsoka's boots skidded slightly on the frost as she rounded a corner in the caves, her breath puffing white in the air. The crystal was warm in her hand—strange, considering the endless chill around her—but she clutched it tightly, afraid that if she let go it would vanish like the rest of the visions had.
The corridors all looked the same. Smooth ice, jagged crystal, light bending in ways that made her feel dizzy if she stared too long. Somewhere between finding her kyber and trying to retrace her steps, she'd gotten turned around.
"Great," she muttered, eyes flicking back. "Lose myself after I succeed. That's a Jedi first."
She slowed, holding the crystal up as if it could act like a lantern. It didn't. At least, not in the practical way she wanted. The glow just refracted and multiplied, bouncing off the walls until it seemed like she was carrying a whole fistful of green sparks.
That was when she saw movement—someone sprinting through the hall ahead.
"Ben?"
Sure enough, he barreled into view, cloak askew, hair sticking out, eyes wide like he'd just been chased by a pack of gundarks. He skidded to a halt when he spotted her, shoulders rising and falling with ragged breaths.
"Oh good," he said, voice too casual for how panicked he looked. "Friendly face. Don't mind me, just—uh—running. From… stuff."
Ahsoka blinked. "From what?"
He glanced over his shoulder, then back at her. "Not important. Good news, though—whatever it was, it's not following me anymore. So I think we can call that a win."
She frowned. "You were being chased?"
"Yes. Hm. Allegedly. Possibly." He coughed into his sleeve. "Visions of… Let's not get bogged down in details."
She crossed her arms. "You know visions can't actually hurt you, right?"
"Intellectually? Sure." He jabbed a thumb at his chest. "Biologically? Tell that to my fight-or-flight response, which rudely activates before my brain does any analysis. Just because my heart doesn't know it's fake doesn't mean it isn't convinced I was about to die."
Ahsoka stared. "…Was it really that bad?"
He gave a weak laugh. "It was pretty bad, yes."
"So what did you see?"
Ben froze mid-step, then very deliberately looked at the ceiling. "Um. You know. Can't really remember. Snow, ice, Force stuff. That kind of thing."
Ahsoka tilted her head, montrals twitching. He was lying. He was terrible at lying. She always knew when he was lying—because he had this thing he did with his voice, stretching syllables just slightly too long, like he thought he was buying time. Plus, he never looked anyone in the eyes when he fibbed. Once, he'd tried to convince her he hadn't stolen extra ration bars from the Temple kitchens. Except he said "Nooo, I didn't," while very obviously chewing.
This was the exact same tone.
Right. He was hiding something.
Ben quickly barreled ahead before she could call him on it. "A-anyways, I see you got your crystal! Congrats! Don't suppose you had to go through some vision-quest nightmare too, did you?"
"Yeah," she admitted. "Not fun."
"No kidding. What did you see?"
Ahsoka hesitated. Her throat tightened, thinking back to the flickering shadows of her own fears. But if he wasn't being honest, why should she? "…Um, you know. Can't really remember. Snow, ice, Force stuff. That kind of thing."
Ben squinted. "You stole my line."
"You didn't copyright it." She smirked.
He pressed a hand to his chest, feigning a wound. "Betrayal. At least let me look at your prize."
She opened her palm, letting the green crystal catch the light. It gleamed brighter than ever now, alive somehow in her grasp.
Ben leaned close, even going as far as to pick it up with his near frost bitten fingers to study it. "It's very… green."
"…Is that it?" She scowled, crossing her arms.
"I didn't want to say anything, but…" He squinted. "…is it cracked?"
Her eyes widened. "What?!"
She snatched it back, heart hammering. For a terrifying second she thought he was right—the crystal did look fractured. A faint line ran across its surface, growing deeper and deeper before, with a faint crack, the stone split into two. Ahsoka gasped. Both halves shimmered, identical, humming with energy.
"I broke it," she blurted. "Ben, I broke my crystal!"
He held up his hands quickly. "Whoa, calm down, calm down. That's not a bad thing. Sometimes kybers do that. Means they're—uh—multipurpose."
"Multipurpose?!"
"Yeah! You know. For when someone wants to… dual wield."
She blinked at him. "Seriously?"
"Look, I don't make the Force rules, I just… report them." He gave a helpless shrug.
Her panic faded into awe as she turned the two crystals over in her hands. Two lightsabers. The idea made her grin despite herself.
"…Okay. That's actually kind of amazing."
"Told you." Ben rocked back on his heels. "You're welcome."
She gave him a look. "You didn't do anything."
"Emotional support counts," he said, grinning.
Rolling her eyes, she tucked the crystals safely away. "So. Do you want help finding your crystal now?"
Ben hesitated, then gave her a lopsided smile. "I appreciate it, but no one else can walk this path—"
"—for us," she cut in. "Yeah, Ben. I was listening to the masters, too." And Maris. "But they didn't say anything about walking the path together. Huh?"
Before he could reply, the caves themselves shifted. A sheet of ice-crystal surged upward between them, cutting across the hall like a barrier. The wall was translucent—she could see Ben's outline on the other side, hear the muffled sound of his voice—but the path was closed.
Ahsoka pressed her palms against the cold surface. "Great. Perfect timing."
Ben leaned in on his side, face distorted by the crystal. "Guess the caves don't like loopholes."
She groaned, resisting the urge to bang her head against the wall. If she had her lightsaber already, she could've cut through. She held up her twin kybers in frustration. "I really wish these worked right now. Hold tight. I'll find a way to get to you."
Ben smiled faintly, though his voice was quieter. "Don't bother. You've already got what you came for. That's the important part."
She narrowed her eyes. "What about you?"
"I'll manage." He gave a shrug, trying to sound nonchalant. "Besides, the door's only going to stay open so long. You should head back before it closes."
"And just leave you?"
"Not leave," he corrected. "I'll see you there—when I've got my own crystal."
She hesitated, still pressing her palm to the wall. His silhouette wavered, the ice distorting his shape until he looked smaller, farther away.
"…You'd better," she whispered.
Ben's outline lifted a hand, palm pressed against the same spot as hers, separated only by the crystal wall. "Deal."
...
So is my selfless, confident, heroic moment over? We good? Good. Now then. What am I supposed to do?!
Seriously. I have no idea where I'm going. These tunnels all look exactly the same—icy walls, glittery reflections, faint whispers of "mystical destiny." It's like walking through the galaxy's most confusing jewelry store. "Yes, I'll take the aisle that doesn't end in an existential crisis, please."
Okay, calm down, Ben. Just. Breathe.
In through the nose, out through the mouth. That's what Master Tyyyvak said, right? Focus. Listen to the Force. And… follow.
Hopefully, this time it won't leave me surrounded by half a dozen Sith Lords.
That memory makes me shiver harder than the cold does. All yellow eyes and sneering voices, whispering that I was already theirs. I ran before my brain caught up. Classic me. It's fine. It's fine. That was just the cave being… cave-y. The Force trying to make a point. A scary, nightmare-inducing, "you're doomed" kind of point, but still.
…Force, I hope Ahsoka's doing better than me.
I trudge deeper, boots crunching against the frost, and after what feels like forever, the tunnel widens. My breath fogs as I step into a cavern that opens into—oh. Oh, no.
A chasm.
The tunnel floor just… ends. Like the galaxy's biggest rug pull. In front of me is a vast crack in the ice, yawning open into nothingness. On the far side, a cluster of crystals glimmer faintly, like stars caught in frozen webs. One of them pulses. Just once. A small, but brilliant flash, timed perfectly with the frantic thud in my chest.
That's mine. I know it.
Of course it is.
Of course the Force decided my soul-bonded crystal would be dangling over a bottomless pit. Because why make things easy? No, no, let's make the ten-year-old Jedi youngling prove himself by not plummeting into oblivion. Ten out of ten safety rating. Would definitely recommend to a friend.
I crouch at the edge, squinting into the void. Nothing but shadow. I grab a small rock, flick it off the edge, and wait.
One… two… three…
Seven seconds later, a faint clink.
"Right. Seven seconds deep. That's… probably not good."
I lean back from the edge, swallowing hard. The funny thing about Star Wars—people fall into chasms all the time. It's practically a rite of passage. Darth Maul, Mace Windu, Obi-Wan—seriously, half of Jedi training could just be summarized as "you're gonna fall off something tall eventually, try not to die when it happens."
But here's the thing: falling is easy. Surviving the fall? Fine, use Force Slow, tuck and roll, whatever. Getting across? Whole different story.
So. Options. I could try to jump. Which… would be the stupidest idea ever. I'd make it maybe halfway, even with the Force helping me out. Then it'd be "Ben Kryze, child prodigy, tragically flattened by physics."
Or. Hear me out. Maybe I can use the Force to build… something. An ice-bridge? That's a thing, right? Ice is solid. Bridges are solid. Put the two together, presto. If it works for Elsa, it works for me.
I kneel at the edge, close my eyes, and reach.
The cold bites at my fingers, creeping under my tunic, but beneath it there's something else. A current. The same whispering tug that led me here. The Force doesn't speak in words—not to me, anyway—but it hums, steady and patient, like a heartbeat in the ice.
I stretch my hand out.
The snow shifts. Frost cracks. A shard of ice quivers loose from the wall, hovering in the air like it's waiting for instructions. Another follows. Then another.
My eyes snap open. I'm doing it. I'm actually doing it.
Piece by piece, chunks of ice float into place, stacking, slotting, fusing together. My breath hitches as a narrow span begins to take shape, stretching out over the abyss. It's shaky, uneven, but it's real. A bridge.
"I'm either a genius," I mutter, "or about to be the dumbest obituary in Temple history."
I put one boot on the first slab. It creaks.
I put my weight on it. It holds.
Okay. Okay. This could work.
Step by step, I inch across, arms out for balance. The bridge sways under me like it knows how nervous I am. I try not to look down, which of course means I look down. Straight into seven seconds of empty.
"Focus, Ben. Focus. You've got this. Totally got this. Yup. Just… don't think about falling. Or dying. Or how Obi-Wan's going to kill you again if you die before him."
Halfway across. My heart's hammering, but the crystal is right there, glowing brighter with every step. Like it's cheering me on.
I reach the far side and drop to my knees, panting, fingers brushing the icy rock. My hands are shaking, but I made it.
The crystal hangs in front of me, half-embedded in the ice wall, faintly luminous. It pulses again, perfectly in rhythm with my racing pulse.
For once, I don't feel the need to make a joke.
It's… beautiful.
Carefully, I reach out. The glow swells, warming my fingertips even through the cold. And the moment I touch it—
—everything else fades.
The cave, the cold, the chasm. Gone.
It's just me. And the crystal. And the Force, singing through both of us, like a chord finally striking true.
The light flares, bright enough to blind. I feel it thrumming in my chest, in my bones, in every part of me. It's not just a rock. It's a promise. A partner.
Mine.
When the glow fades, the crystal rests in my palm. Small, but steady. I cradle it carefully, like it might vanish if I breathe too hard.
For the first time since stepping into these caves, I'm not scared.
I'm exactly where I'm supposed to be.
Exactly where I want to be.
…Except for solid ground. Which is looking a lot more appealing than a self-constructed ice bridge that relies on my complete concentration to stay in place. In hindsight, maybe I should've just Force Pulled the crystal to me.
Live and learn. Hopefully.
The thought barely finishes before the ice beneath me groans. A sound like glass cracking. My stomach drops faster than my feet.
"Aw, come on—"
The bridge shatters.
And then I'm falling.
I don't even have time to scream. Instinct takes over. My arms fling wide, and the Force surges, thick and cold around me. Not a shield. Not a wall. Just—slowing. Like invisible hands dragging at my tunic, at my boots, tugging me toward the ground with a stubborn, sticky kind of resistance.
It's jarring. My knees still buckle when I hit the icy floor, but I'm not a smear on the chasm wall. Small victories.
"Okay," I pant, leaning forward, hands braced on my knees. "New rule. Next time there's a bottomless pit? Just throw a rock in it and walk away."
"Ben?"
The voice makes my head snap up. Not Satine. Not Korkie. Smaller. Nervous.
Maris.
She's hugging herself against the cold, wide-eyed, her steps hesitant as she emerges from a side tunnel. The snowflakes sticking in her hair make her look even more lost.
"You too, huh?" I say, exhaling a long breath. "Got the 'wander around until everything looks the same' tour package?"
Her mouth quirks like she wants to smile, but can't quite manage it. "I… I think I took a wrong turn."
"Join the club. Membership fee's just mild hypothermia."
She blinks, then actually laughs—a quick, nervous burst, but real. I grin despite myself.
"Come on," I say, offering a hand. "Force says this way."
She stares at my hand like it's a lifeline, then takes it. Her palm is icy cold. I give it a squeeze, then start tugging her along.
The Force thrums in the back of my head again. Not words. Not visions. Just a pull. A certainty. I follow it.
Turns out it's better than any star map. We weave through frozen corridors, each one narrower, darker, as if the ice itself wants to push us out. The rumble starts low—a grinding, cracking sound that shakes the frost from the ceiling.
"Uh," I say. "That doesn't sound good."
The tunnel trembles. Ice walls start shifting, slabs sliding into place like the world's angriest puzzle box.
Maris gasps. "It's closing!"
"Then we run!"
We sprint, our boots slapping against slick ice. The corridor ahead is shrinking, walls shoving together with terrifying speed. The entrance—a jagged break in the blue glow of the caves—is still far. Too far.
The kids ahead of us are already squeezing through, scrambling out into the wider chamber. Ahsoka's orange skin is the last flash of color before a wall of ice nearly slams her in.
"Ahsoka!"
She's stuck. One leg through, the other pinned by a narrowing gap. Panic spikes through me—her panic, my panic, mixed together.
Without thinking, I shove Maris forward. "Go! Get through!"
She stumbles, vanishes into the opening.
I stretch out my hand, the Force roaring in my chest. Not gentle this time. Not careful. Just raw instinct.
"Move!"
Ahsoka yelps as she's yanked forward like a doll, tumbling into the chamber beyond. But at least she made it.
Me? I barely had time to do a Force Enhanced Indiana Jones style barrel roll back through, before the temple door behind me.
I stumped back to my feet, knees wobbling, lungs burning, but alive. The ice groans behind us, snapping and sliding into place with finality. I glance back once. The last slab of the door locks shut, a jagged wall of crystal and frost. Silence fills the tunnel, heavy and echoing.
Breathing hard, I straighten, brushing frost off my robes, squinting at the chamber beyond. Every crèche kid accounted for. Hearts pounding, shivering, some laughing nervously, others still staring at the ice as if it might reopen and swallow them whole.
"Everyone… survived?" I mutter, more to myself than anyone else.
Ahsoka claps a hand on my shoulder, smirking, though her eyes are still wide. "Barely," she says, voice teasing but tinged with awe. "You were… not subtle."
"Subtlety is for people who don't almost fall to their deaths," I reply. "I prefer dramatic flair. Very Jedi. Very heroic."
Maris stands beside me, still clutching her crystal, eyes shining with relief. "Thanks… for not letting me get lost," she says quietly.
"Force said follow me," I shrug, "but I take credit anyway. Hero points. Probably. Somewhere."
We all shuffle forward, the chill biting less now that the adrenaline's fading. The cave doors behind us are nothing but frozen memory. Ahead lies the temple chamber, warm lights reflecting off icy stalactites and stalagmites, welcoming, safe.
I glance at our little group. Thirteen kids, thirteen crystals, thirteen paths converged again. Somehow, all thirteen made it through the trials. Somehow, we didn't leave anyone behind, and somehow, I didn't die. That counts as a win.
I tuck the crystal carefully into my robe pocket, feeling its pulse sync with my heartbeat. A quiet, personal victory. Step one complete. Step two… well, figuring out the rest is tomorrow's problem.
Maris nudges me lightly. "We… did it."
"Yeah," I say, smiling, "we did it."
...
The warm glow of the Temple stretched around us like a blanket, melting the cold from my bones before I even realized it had been there. Frost-crusted boots crunched against the stone floor as our little crèche trudged forward, tired but triumphant. Tyyyvak was already there, arms wide, fur bristling with pride.
"Ah… my younglings," she rumbled, sweeping us all in a massive, slightly suffocating embrace. "Maris… bravery grows in your heart. And you, Ben Kryze are most… Inventive. Clever… but reckless."
I chuckled despite myself, pulling back just enough to breathe. "I prefer… 'heroically innovative,' thank you very much." Reckless tends to disqualify you from Jedi of the Year.
Her eyes glimmered with amusement—or maybe that was just the ice still clinging to her fur.
Yoda, perched nearby, chuckled in his tiny, knowing way. "Survived, all did. Great potential, all of you show. Keepers of harmony, you will be."
I shot a sidelong glance at Ahsoka, who was dusting snow off her robes with a casual flick of her wrist.
I muttered under my breath, holding my crystal tight. "I cannot wait to have a nice, warm lightsaber in hand. I never knew it was possible to hate the cold this much."
Ahsoka gave me a sly grin, tilting her head. "Hey, you know you had it easy, right? Humans live on cold planets all the time. Togrutas? Not so much. Do you see any fur on me?"
I waved a hand vaguely, dramatic. "It's called hair, Ahsoka! And can't you see how much I've suffered? Look at how red my nose is!"
Her smirk widened, and she gave me a gentle poke. "Aw, poor little baby. I'm sorry, is your nose red? Well, all of my skin is orange!"
I blinked, trying to process her logic. "…Isn't it… isn't it always?"
"Not the point, Ben."
Kinda feels like it is, I thought, ignoring her correction.
She leaned closer, curiosity sparking in her blue eyes. "So… what color kyber did you get?"
I froze for a moment, inwardly groaning at her obvious deflection. But… fine. I had been wondering too. Didn't really get a good look at it earlier, between the running and the falling. And the saving. I totally deserve to be Jedi of the Year.
I pulled the crystal from my pocket and let it catch the light. A vivid green flared, calm and steady, perfectly synced to my heartbeat.
"…Green. My kyber color is green."
Ahsoka's grin softened, pride and amusement mingling. "Green. We're twins! Or… triplets? You'll do well with it."
I nodded, letting a quiet warmth spread through me that had nothing to do with escaping the icy tunnels. The Force hummed gently, the crystal's pulse echoing in my chest.
The other younglings were chatting among themselves, comparing colors, recounting visions, trying to make sense of the trials. I could see a glimmer of awe in their eyes at each other's courage, at the paths each had taken. Somehow, in the midst of snow, ice, and visions of potential doom, we had all made it back. Alive. Stronger. Changed.
I shifted my weight, feeling the small weight of the crystal in my palm, familiar now, almost like an extension of myself. A quiet smile tugged at my lips. Tomorrow, the real work would start—training, lessons, everything. But for now…
For now, we survived the caves. And I had a magic crystal that felt like it belonged to me, and me to it.
Ahsoka nudged my shoulder lightly, and I looked up at her grin. "You know," she said, "you're probably going to have to explain that 'heroically innovative' thing later."
I rolled my eyes, smirking back. "Yeah, yeah. Step two, I suppose."
The warmth of the Temple, the calm of the Force, and the faint thrum of the crystal in my pocket reminded me of one thing: even in the most impossible situations, even dangling over chasms or facing visions that make your stomach drop, there's a way forward. And we'd found it. Together… in our own ways.
Pretty cool.