The stars had lost their meaning.
Eli drifted in a cocoon of light and vibration, the ship's steady hum now part of his heartbeat. The cockpit had long since dimmed. Ryen sat beside him, arms folded and feigning rest, but Eli knew better. The Jedi Knight hadn't truly relaxed since they'd lifted off Coruscant. Not around him.
And why should he?
Even Eli didn't know what he was anymore.
He drifted to sleep slowly, not in surrender but in retreat. The soft pull of exhaustion lured him, a curtain of static through which memory and dream blurred like melting shadows.
---
The Temple was on fire.
Again.
But this time, the flames didn't roar. They whispered. Low and hungry.
Eli stood beneath the vaulted ceiling of the Archives, but the shelves were gone. The holocrons floated midair like drifting bones. The murals on the walls bled, the faces of ancient Jedi melting into anguished specters.
Tavi's voice echoed from nowhere. "Why didn't you save me?"
Niyala's eyes stared from a hallway that didn't exist, wide and empty. "You said we'd run together."
He turned and Anakin stood at the far end of the corridor, bathed in red. Not his lightsaber—his eyes.
"You think you can change it."
Eli backed away.
"You keep crawling back like a parasite."
The ground shifted. The marble beneath Eli's feet cracked and fell into an abyss, a void that pulled at him.
"It's not the Temple that dies."
Anakin's voice was a chorus now, layered and wrong.
"It's you. Over. And over. And over."
Eli turned to run and slammed into a wall of mirrors.
Each one held a different version of him. Burned. Broken. Screaming. Laughing. Empty.
One leaned forward.
Smiled.
"You're not saving anyone. You're becoming something worse."
Then the mirror cracked.
And so did the dream.
---
Eli shot upright with a gasp.
The cockpit lights were low, flickering slightly as the nav system pinged—destination approaching. His chest heaved, breath ragged, palms slick with cold sweat.
The Force swirled around him like water gone still after a stone's plunge.
Ryen was already looking at him.
The older Jedi sat forward, brows drawn, his hand not far from the hilt at his belt. His voice was careful. "What did you see?"
Eli rubbed his temples. "It wasn't a vision."
Ryen tilted his head. "You sure about that?"
Eli hesitated. "I don't know."
That was honest, and Ryen seemed to note it.
The nav system beeped again. Aleru was close now. The stars outside began to stretch less, resolving slowly into pinpricks of steady light.
Ryen broke the silence. "You spoke in your sleep. Not words. Sounds."
Eli looked at him, uncertain.
"Like you were hearing something from far away," Ryen continued. "Like it was trying to speak through you."
Eli frowned, then winced. The whisper of the dream lingered. A hum in his skull. An ache behind the Force.
"You said a name," Ryen added.
Eli turned, suddenly tense. "What name?"
Ryen shook his head. "Didn't catch it. Only that it made my skin crawl."
He stood and walked slowly across the cockpit. For the first time, Eli saw real uncertainty in him. Not fear. Doubt.
"Look," Ryen said, folding his arms, voice quiet, "you're strong in the Force. Stronger than a youngling should be. You move like someone trained longer than your age allows. And now you're having dreams that shake the hull."
Eli said nothing.
"You told me you died fourteen times. That you wake up again. That you remember. I wanted to believe you. Still do, maybe. But you…" He paused. "You're not all here, Eli."
That made Eli stiffen. "What does that mean?"
"There's a gap," Ryen said. "In the Force. Around you. Like something should be there but isn't. Or something is there, hiding."
Eli looked away, fists clenched.
Ryen softened slightly. "I don't think you're lying. I think you believe what you're saying. But whether it's true, or some trauma wrapped around your mind like armor… I don't know."
The cockpit trembled gently as the ship began its exit from hyperspace. The stars snapped into focus, and Aleru loomed ahead—a pale, dust-covered world with wide plateaus and scattered greenery. Isolated. Safe. At least for now.
Eli exhaled. "I don't want to be like this."
Ryen turned.
Eli kept his eyes on the viewport. "I want to believe it's just grief. That I'm just broken. That the dreams are just dreams. But then I wake up knowing where the clones will breach, knowing Bral's exact betrayal. I see Tavi die again. I know what comes next because I've lived it."
The ship slowed into orbit. Systems chimed. The quiet between them stretched again.
"Maybe you are telling the truth," Ryen admitted. "Maybe you're caught in something the Force hasn't revealed yet. But you scare me, Eli. Not because you're wrong. Because you might be right."
Eli finally looked at him. "Then why are you still here?"
Ryen studied him.
"Because every Jedi I knew is gone. And I made a choice to believe in something again. Even if it scares me."
A quiet beep interrupted them—landing coordinates locked.
Below, Aleru waited, brown and unremarkable. A hiding place for now.
But far away, in the stillness between systems, the Force stirred like dark water disturbed.
As if something—
—was listening.