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Dantooine – Return to the Enclave
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The Royal Harpy descended through the Dantooine atmosphere, gliding toward the restored Jedi Enclave, now a thriving base for the Jedi Paladins. The settlement had expanded in our short absence, its structures reinforced, its training grounds bustling with new recruits. The 190th Legion stood on watch, their presence ensuring the enclave's security, patrolling the Space System and helping needed ones nearby.
The landing gear hissed as the ship touched down, and the ramp lowered, revealing the waiting figures of Anakin Skywalker, Obi-Wan Kenobi, Ver An, Shaak Ti and two new Jedi Masters who had joined the order in our absence.
After I descended of the spaceship, I reunited the Heirs and stepped forward first, followed closely by Tasky Vao and Ulrich Qel-Droma, the newest apprentices of the Paladins. Tasky, only 14 years old, hesitated for a moment, her blue eyes flicking between the gathered masters. Beside her, Ulrich, at 16 years, carried himself with the confidence of a survivor, but there was something in his gaze—a quiet curiosity—as he looked toward Anakin Skywalker.
Ver An greeted us first, his dark robes billowing in the wind, his blue bladed lightsaber clipped to his belt. His eyes locked onto Tasky with a gentleness that I had rarely seen from him.
"You carry a great legacy, young one, even if you do not yet know its weight," he said, his voice steady yet warm.
Tasky swallowed and nodded, her hands tightening at her sides.
Anakin clapped a hand on Ulrich's shoulder, grinning. "And you, kid—you're in for quite the training. You've got big shoes to fill."
Ulrich frowned slightly. "You knew my ancestor?"
Anakin's grin faltered for a moment before turning into something softer. "Not personally. But I know his story. A warrior. A fallen knight. A man who found redemption. You'll hear plenty about him, but for now, you need to focus on your own path."
Obi-Wan stepped forward, his eyes calm and contemplative. "And I will be here to guide you as well. My own master, Qui-Gon Jinn, believed in forging your own destiny, in following the will of the Force even when others disagree. He was a great man, and it's because of him that I chose my own way. We'll see if you're ready to choose yours."
Ulrich nodded, his expression unreadable. He wasn't one to speak too much, but I could sense that he was listening.
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Beside Obi-Wan and Anakin stood two new figures—Jedi Masters who had joined the effort to establish the Dantooine Enclave as a permanent stronghold.
The first was a human man in his early fifties, dressed in a Jedi tunic reinforced with utility belts and mechanical attachments. His short-cropped brown hair had streaks of gray, and his piercing hazel eyes were filled with both intellect and amusement. This was Elon Musk, a specialist in engineering, lightsaber construction, and piloting, handpicked by the council to aid in technical advancements.
He nodded toward me, grinning. "I hear you're handy with a lightsaber. Let's see if you're handy with building a spaceship, too."
Beside him stood Kastus Korc, a Kiffar warrior, broad-shouldered and imposing. His bald head was marked by a three-striped facial tattoo running over his right eye, a symbol of his heritage. His Jedi robes were gray, with a brown Jedi cloak draped over his massive frame, and his forearms were clad in metal bracers forged from Mandalorian iron, Beskar. He looked like a warrior from an older time—one who believed in battle as much as peace.
His voice was deep and steady. "We'll see what kind of fighter you are soon enough, Kriss. The battlefield doesn't care for titles—only survival."
I smirked. "Looking forward to it."
As the introductions settled, a woman stepped forward, her elegant presence a stark contrast to the warriors around her. She was tall, with raven-black hair coiled in intricate curls, piercing blue eyes, and a noble posture. She wore a royal blue gown, simple but elegant, flowing just above her knees—a stark difference from the traditional Jedi robes.
This was Betsy Tay, 31 years old, born on Alderaan.
She carried herself with grace and wisdom, but her posture radiated strength. Clipped to her belt was a single blue-bladed lightsaber, its hilt slim and refined.
"I volunteer to serve as the Fourth Jedi Paladin, alongside Wilhelm, Ahsoka, and Kassy," she announced, her voice smooth but commanding. "The Jedi Order is changing. I will ensure that this change includes diplomacy, guidance, and balance."
I nodded in approval. A warrior was one thing—but a leader, a diplomat, was just as important.
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While the apprentices settled into their new lives, there was one more soul in need of guidance.
Hannah Niimo, the former Sith Acolyte of Korriban, sat within the Enclave's fortified cells, her posture rigid, her mind torn between past and future.
I visited her often. Not as a captor, but as something else.
One evening, as I entered her cell, she looked up. "You keep coming back. Why?"
I sat across from her. "Because I see potential. I see someone who wants to be more than just a blade for the Sith."
She laughed bitterly. "And what do you see? A Jedi?"
"No," I said simply. "I see Hannah."
For the first time, her mask of defiance cracked.
We worked together for weeks. She learned about the Force—not as a weapon, but as a guide. And she helped me craft something unique—a synthetic kyber crystal, one of the first made on Dantooine.
The red blade ignited in her hands, but it was different. It was hers—not one stolen, not one forced upon her. It was a symbol of change.
As she held it, she looked at me with something unreadable in her eyes. "Thank you, Will."
A different kind of warmth stirred in my chest.
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With the Enclave growing, with Hannah finding her path, and with the Jedi Paladins expanding, Dantooine was no longer just a hidden outpost.
It was a beacon.
And our next mission awaited.
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