The saber hummed low in Eli's hand as the first distant boom reverberated through the Temple. The sound wasn't thunder—it was the march of metal boots, the hiss of breaching charges, the roar of gunships settling onto sacred ground.
It was beginning again.
He drew in a breath and centered himself in the opening stance of Djem So, the blue training saber casting a faint glow across the walls of the empty chamber. The echoes from the Archives still rang in his head—Jocasta Nu's steady wisdom, the words of ancient Masters layered into the holotexts he couldn't carry with him.
But the movements… the principles… those were his now.
He exited the chamber and turned down the hallway at a brisk pace, each step rehearsed. He knew the clones' timing. They came through the lower levels first—maintenance access, a weak point in the Temple's underbelly. From there, they spread upward, clearing halls in squads of five and ten.
At this stage in the loop, the youngling dormitory was still untouched. Tavi and Niyala would be there—likely scared, confused, but unprepared.
This time, Eli didn't rush in screaming, didn't try to drag them out with desperation. He moved with clarity, cutting around a column to avoid a patrol just forming on the west wing stairwell.
He ducked into the dormitory just as a sharp burst of blaster fire echoed from above.
Tavi spun to look at him, eyes wide. "Eli! What's going on?"
"The Temple is under attack," Eli said plainly, gaze flicking between them. "Again."
Niyala stood, calm as ever, but her voice betrayed her fear. "The clones?"
"Yes."
Tavi was already halfway to the door. "We have to run—"
"No," Eli snapped, more forcefully than intended. "That's how we always die. Running without a plan. Fighting without knowing how."
Niyala tilted her head. "What are you talking about?"
"I've seen this happen," Eli said, forcing his voice steady. "I know the routes they take, the timing, the patterns. I've been here before. Thirteen times. Every time I die, I come back."
Tavi blinked. "That sounds… insane."
"Yeah," Eli admitted with a hollow laugh. "I thought so too."
The moment dragged in tense silence before he continued. "I don't know how to stop them yet. But I'm going to start preparing. There's no other way forward."
"What are you going to do?" Niyala asked quietly.
"Train," Eli said. "From now on, that's all I'll do. If I can't beat them yet, then I'll study everything. Learn their patterns. Build my strength. I've started working on a form. A saber style."
Tavi looked skeptical. "We're younglings. They're soldiers."
"Maybe. But we have the Force. And time."
He ignited the training saber again, stepping into the opening stance of Djem So. The power-focused form's foundational position wasn't about speed or finesse—it was about readiness. Controlled aggression. Countering force with resilience.
He demonstrated the basic motion: deflect, counter. Rooted stance. Centered balance. His movement was unrefined, but purposeful.
Tavi exchanged a glance with Niyala, then smirked.
"Well, if we're all doomed anyway, might as well learn to swing a saber properly."
"I'm in," Niyala said, surprising them both. "Better than hiding in fear again."
Eli felt a spark of something deep in his chest—not hope exactly, but a flicker of solidarity. It was fragile, but it was there.
They didn't have much time. The clones would reach this section of the Temple in under fifteen minutes.
But for now, they trained.
They cleared a corner of the dormitory and stood in a small triangle. Eli walked them through the basic stances he had memorized—Shii-Cho for Tavi, as it was the most forgiving and general; Soresu for Niyala, with her precise, defensive tendencies. Djem So, he kept for himself.
The three of them moved slowly, sabers humming in unison, their forms broken and uncertain. Yet there was rhythm. Focus.
It was the first time in thirteen loops that Eli wasn't just reacting to death.
He was building something.
As they drilled, the sounds of war crept closer—blasterfire, distant screams, the mechanical whir of trooper boots over stone. But Eli didn't flinch. Not yet.
He raised a hand, stopping the others.
"It's time."
They extinguished their sabers. He knew they wouldn't make it far this loop—but that wasn't the point.
"Hide in the meditation alcove on the west wall," he told them. "There's a stone ledge behind the column. They pass it every time but never look up. Wait there."
"What about you?" Tavi asked.
"I need to hold the hall," Eli said, voice low. "I need to test what I've learned."
Niyala reached out and touched his shoulder. "Come find us after."
"I will."
Eli ignited his saber and stepped into Djem So's ready stance.
He didn't expect to win.
But he would remember.
And next time… he'd be stronger.