Chapter 3: The Discovery

  Kalden made his way through the destruction of what was once the proud "Enlightened Justice." Every step brought new obstacles – collapsed ceiling panels, exposed wiring spitting sparks, and automated fire suppression systems that had either failed completely or sprayed freezing flame-retardant foam at random intervals.

  His mind calculated the quickest route to Lyra, but his body refused to move as fast as he needed. A deep gash in his side from the bridge collapse had begun bleeding again. He pressed his palm against it, using the Force to dull the pain.

  Another violent explosion rocked the ship, throwing him against a bulkhead. The impact jarred loose another memory, and suddenly Kalden was no longer on the dying vessel.

  The grand ballroom of the Alderaan Royal Palace sparkled with crystalline chandeliers, the elite of the Republic mingling beneath them in a symphony of expensive fabrics and quiet political maneuvering. Kalden stood at the periphery, uncomfortable in his formal Jedi attire. These diplomatic functions always felt like a waste of his talents, especially with the Separatist threat growing by the day.

  "You look as thrilled to be here as I am," a voice observed beside him.

  Kalden turned to find a woman in a simple blue gown, her dark hair arranged in an elegant twist. Unlike the other attendees, her jewelry was minimal – a single silver pendant around her neck.

  "That obvious?" he asked, allowing himself a small smile.

  "You've been gripping that glass like it might try to escape." She nodded toward his hand, where he indeed held a drink he hadn't touched. "I'm Lyra Valen. My father is the visiting dignitary from Chandrila that everyone's pretending to be interested in."

  "Knight Kalden Nyros," he introduced himself with a slight bow. "I'm the Jedi assigned to ensure this evening proceeds without incident."

  "And how's that going?" Lyra's eyes sparkled with mischief.

  "Well, I've managed to prevent three minor diplomatic incidents, identified two potential security breaches, and avoided at least four conversations about the Senate's latest taxation proposal." He paused. "So I'd say successfully, overall."

  Her laugh was genuine, lacking the practiced politeness he'd heard all evening. Something about it drew him in – a brightness in the Force he hadn't expected.

  "Would you care to walk in the gardens?" Lyra asked suddenly. "I find these events suffocating after a while, and the royal gardens are supposed to be spectacular at night."

  Kalden hesitated. His assignment was to remain vigilant, not to wander off with an intriguing diplomat's daughter. And yet, something in the Force nudged him forward.

  "I should stay focused on security," he said, even as he placed his untouched drink on a passing server's tray.

  "We'll stay within sight of the ballroom," Lyra promised. "Besides, aren't Jedi supposed to be able to sense danger from anywhere?"

  "That's not exactly how it works," Kalden began, but found himself following her toward the terrace doors nonetheless.

  The gardens were indeed breathtaking, illuminated by soft blue lights that gave the flowering plants an ethereal quality. They walked in comfortable silence for a few moments, the sounds of the reception fading behind them.

  "So," Lyra said finally, "what's it like? Being a Jedi?"

  It was a question Kalden had been asked countless times, usually by wide-eyed children or skeptical politicians. But something in her tone suggested she was seeking a real answer, not the standard platitudes.

  "It's..." he considered his words carefully, "a life of purpose. Of discipline. We serve the Force and, through it, the galaxy."

  "That sounds like the official answer," she observed, stopping beside a fountain. "I was hoping for something more personal."

  Kalden found himself smiling again. "You're right. The truth is, it can be lonely. We're taught to avoid attachment, to release our emotions into the Force. But we're still people, underneath it all."

  "That seems like an impossible standard to maintain."

  "Perhaps it is," he admitted, surprising himself with his candor. "But it's the path I chose."

  "Did you?" Lyra asked softly. "Choose it, I mean? I was under the impression that Jedi are identified as children."

  Before Kalden could respond, a sudden crash came from inside the ballroom. His hand instinctively went to his lightsaber as his senses expanded, searching for danger.

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  "Stay here," he instructed, already moving toward the source of the disturbance.

  To his surprise, Lyra grabbed his arm. "Wait!"

  In that moment of contact, Kalden felt it – unmistakable, impossible to ignore. Force sensitivity, powerful but untrained, flowing from her like light from a star.

  Their eyes met, and he knew she had felt something too – a connection, a recognition of something shared between them that few could understand.

  "You're..." he began, but was cut off by the sound of blaster fire from the ballroom.

  Duty called him away from this revelation, but as he rushed back to the reception, Kalden knew with absolute certainty that this wouldn't be their last meeting.

  A pain in his chest pulled Kalden back to the present. He'd been so lost in the memory that he'd failed to notice the smoke filling the corridor. His lungs burned as he tried to breathe, reminding him that even Jedi had their limits.

  He pulled the collar of his tunic up over his nose and mouth, using the Force to filter his breaths as he pushed forward. The shuttle bay was still two decks below, and time was running out.

  As he reached a junction in the corridor, he felt it – a cold presence in the Force, malevolent and focused. The Eighth Brother had boarded the ship.

  Kalden ducked into a maintenance shaft, climbing down to the next level rather than taking the more direct route. He couldn't afford a confrontation, not yet. Not until Lyra and the others were safely away.

  The ladder beneath his feet groaned dangerously as he descended. Metal fatigue, accelerated by the battle damage. He quickened his pace, reaching the bottom just as the upper section tore free from the wall, crashing down behind him.

  No going back that way.

  He forced open the access door and emerged into what had once been the ship's medical bay. The scene was one of controlled chaos – the medical staff efficiently evacuating patients, moving the most critical cases toward the shuttle bay. Among them, Kalden recognized Selina Narol, the former Jedi healer who had joined their group after surviving the purge at the Temple.

  "Commander!" she called when she spotted him. "We've almost completed the medical evacuation."

  "Good work," he replied, helping her guide a hover-stretcher past a fallen support beam. "How many more?"

  "Just these three," Selina indicated the remaining patients. "The others are already at the shuttle."

  Kalden assisted with the final evacuees, guiding them through the debris-filled corridors. His mind, however, kept returning to that first meeting with Lyra – the moment that had changed everything. The moment he'd discovered a Force-sensitive so powerful, yet so completely untrained, that she had lived her entire life without realizing what she was.

  The assassination attempt at the reception had been foiled, though not without casualties. Two security guards dead, several dignitaries injured. The would-be assassin – a disgruntled former aide with Separatist sympathies – was in custody.

  Kalden found Lyra in a side chamber, being treated for a minor cut on her arm. Despite the chaos, she seemed remarkably composed.

  "Are you alright?" he asked, kneeling beside her.

  "I'm fine," she assured him. "Others weren't so fortunate."

  Kalden hesitated, aware of the medical droid hovering nearby. What he needed to discuss with her wasn't for others to hear.

  "Could we speak privately?" he asked quietly.

  Lyra nodded, dismissing the droid with a polite but firm request. When they were alone, she turned to him expectantly.

  "What happened between us in the garden," Kalden began, searching for the right words. "Did you feel it?"

  "The connection?" Lyra's directness surprised him. "Yes. It was like... like I could sense your thoughts. Not specific words, but intentions, feelings." She frowned. "It's happened before, occasionally, with other people. But never so strongly."

  Kalden took a deep breath. "Lyra, you're Force-sensitive. Strongly so. The fact that you've gone undetected this long is... remarkable."

  She stared at him, processing his words. "That's impossible. If I were Force-sensitive, wouldn't the Jedi have found me as a child?"

  "Our methods aren't perfect," Kalden explained. "Some slip through, especially in the Outer Rim territories. And sometimes... sometimes the Force itself conceals those it wishes to protect, until the right moment."

  "And you think this is that moment?" There was skepticism in her voice, but curiosity too.

  "I don't know," he admitted. "But what I felt from you wasn't untapped potential. It was already manifesting, just... differently than how we're taught."

  "What does this mean?" Lyra asked, a hint of alarm creeping into her voice. "Will you report me to the Jedi Council? Take me to Coruscant?"

  Kalden considered his duty. The protocol was clear: force-sensitive adults were to be reported to the Council for evaluation. Most were deemed too old for training, too set in their ways, too vulnerable to the dark side. They would be monitored, possibly offered limited instruction in controlling their abilities, but never fully trained as Jedi.

  Something about that felt deeply wrong when applied to Lyra.

  "You're too old for traditional training," he said finally. "The Council would never accept you as a Padawan."

  Relief and disappointment crossed her face in equal measure.

  "But," Kalden continued, surprising himself, "I could help you understand your abilities. Unofficially."

  "Wouldn't that violate your Jedi rules?"

  "Probably," he acknowledged with a small smile. "But the Force led me to you for a reason. I'm inclined to find out why."

  A massive explosion somewhere above shook Kalden out of his memories. The deck plates beneath his feet vibrated ominously, and emergency alarms began blaring throughout the ship.

  "Hull breach on decks four through six!" announced the automated system. "Emergency containment failing. All personnel evacuate immediately."

  They had reached the final corridor leading to the shuttle bay. Kalden could feel Lyra's presence ahead, her Force signature blazing with worry and determination. Beside her, fainter but unmistakable, the developing light of their unborn child – a presence in the Force that still amazed him with its clarity and strength.

  As the last of the medical evacuees were guided into the shuttle bay, Kalden paused. The dark presence of the Eighth Brother was growing closer, moving with purpose through the ship. Hunting him.

  Kalden had a choice to make. He could go to Lyra now, see her one last time, hold her in his arms and feel the life growing within her. Or he could turn and face the Inquisitor, buying more time for the shuttle to escape cleanly.

  He closed his eyes, centering himself in the Force. When he opened them again, his decision was made.

  With one last look toward the shuttle bay doors – toward everything he loved in the galaxy – Kalden Nyros turned and headed back into the dying ship, his green lightsaber igniting with a snap-hiss that echoed through the empty corridor.