The holocron sat in my hands, its glow dimming as if waiting for me to figure out how to unlock it. Kenobi's voice had been there for only a moment—a whisper before fading back into silence.
I exhaled sharply and set the cube down on the floor beside me.
Fine. If I couldn't open it yet, maybe the scrolls would give me a clue.
Reaching back into the satchel, I carefully pulled out one of the ancient-looking scrolls. The material felt fragile beneath my fingers, worn from time and age. As I unrolled it, symbols and script I didn't recognize sprawled across the parchment. Some of it was written in a language I barely understood—Old Galactic Basic, maybe—but there were words interwoven in Aurebesh as well.
I traced my fingers over the markings, trying to make sense of them.
"The Force is not merely light or dark. It is a river, flowing between all things. To grasp its current is to understand not only power, but balance."
Balance.
I swallowed hard. That was something Kenobi had always tried to teach me—to not just see the Force as a weapon, but as something deeper, something living. Something connected to everything.
Another passage caught my eye, this one scribbled hastily in the margins, almost as if someone had written it as an afterthought.
"Only when one is ready to listen will the holocron reveal its truths."
I frowned, glancing at the cube. Ready to listen? What did that even mean?
I picked up the holocron again, running my fingers over the intricate carvings. It thrummed faintly beneath my touch, like a heartbeat. If this was truly a Jedi holocron, then it required more than just opening it like a datapad. It needed something deeper.
It needed the Force.
Closing my eyes, I inhaled slowly, trying to push away the doubts swirling in my mind. The weight of Kenobi's death still sat heavy in my chest, but I forced myself to focus—not on my grief, not on my frustration, but on the quiet hum of the Force itself.
I reached out. Not with my hands, but with something deeper.
The holocron pulsed in response.
The carvings began to glow brighter, the humming intensifying. For a brief moment, I felt something shift, like a lock turning—
And then, just as quickly as it started, the glow faded.
I let out a frustrated breath, my fingers clenching around the cube. So close. But not enough.
My mind raced. Maybe I wasn't doing it right. Maybe I wasn't ready.
Or maybe… I was too afraid to listen to what it had to say.
I glanced back down at the scrolls, Kenobi's words echoing in my mind.
"The Force is a river."
Maybe I had been trying to force it open when I should have been letting it guide me.
I sighed, settling back against the wall. One thing was clear—I wasn't unlocking this holocron tonight.
But I wasn't giving up either.
Frustration still gnawed at me, but I forced myself to set the holocron aside. If I wasn't ready to unlock it, then pushing wouldn't help. I needed patience—something Kenobi had always told me I lacked.
I reached back into the satchel, pulling out another scroll. This one felt different. Sturdier. The parchment was thick, the ink bolder, untouched by time's wear. As I carefully unrolled it, my eyes widened.
It was a diagram.
Lines and figures moved across the parchment in a series of carefully illustrated forms—stances, footwork, the angle of a blade held at the ready. At first glance, it looked like a record of some kind of lightsaber combat. I had seen Jedi holorecordings before, but never something this old.
As I studied it closer, a realization struck me—these weren't aggressive movements. Unlike the offensive strikes I had seen in holovids of Jedi warriors battling Sith, these stances were measured, patient. Defensive.
My breath caught.
Form III.
Also known as Soresu, the Way of the Mynock. The ultimate defensive lightsaber form.
Kenobi had used it himself. It was how he had survived the Clone Wars, how he had held his own against overwhelming odds time and time again. I had seen him practice it before, had even tried to mimic his precision, though I had never been able to match his mastery.
Why had he left this for me?
I ran my fingers over the inked figures, committing each stance to memory. Soresu wasn't about overpowering an opponent—it was about endurance. It was about surviving.
A flicker of memory surfaced—Kenobi's final battle with Vader. The way he had moved, calm and deliberate. The way he had smiled, as if he already knew what was coming.
Kenobi hadn't been trying to win that fight.
He had been delaying.
My fingers clenched around the edge of the parchment. I had spent so much time mourning his loss, so much time questioning why he had let himself fall. But now, looking at this, I understood.
Kenobi had made a choice.
And now, he had left me something. A piece of the path he had walked. Not to fight. Not to destroy.
But to endure.
I sat back, staring at the scroll in my lap. The Falcon hummed quietly around me, the stars outside stretching endlessly through hyperspace.
I wasn't ready for the holocron yet.
But this?
This, I could learn.
The urge to move gripped me. My mind was still spinning with the realization of what Kenobi had left behind, but I knew I wouldn't understand it just by staring at the scrolls. I had to do something.
I carefully rolled up the parchment and set it beside the holocron before pushing myself to my feet. My legs were stiff from sitting for so long, but I barely noticed. My focus was on finding something—anything—that I could use to practice the forms.
A lightsaber would have been ideal, but I didn't have one. I barely even understood what had happened with my crystal necklace and the holocron, let alone how to construct a weapon of my own.
So I had to improvise.
I started searching the Falcon's lower compartments, rifling through whatever loose equipment Han had stashed away. A hydrospanner? Too short. A length of pipe? Too heavy.
Then, in the corner of a storage unit, I found something. A long, metal maintenance rod, probably used for adjusting the ship's wiring. It wasn't perfect—it was a little heavier than I would have liked, and the balance was all wrong—but it would do.
I stepped back into the dimly lit corridor, gripping the rod with both hands. The cool metal felt strange against my palms, but I adjusted my stance, planting my feet as I had seen Kenobi do so many times before.
I unrolled the scroll again, scanning the first stance.
Feet shoulder-width apart. Blade held high, but not too rigid. Body angled slightly, minimizing the target zone.
I exhaled, shifting into the position.
The next sequence of movements was simple—a slow, sweeping motion meant to deflect an incoming strike. Let the attack come to you. Redirect. Conserve energy.
I moved, sweeping the rod in a slow arc.
Again.
And again.
At first, my motions felt clumsy, uncertain. I wasn't used to this—it was so different from the few aggressive strikes I had learned in my past scraps and scuffles.
So I kept going.
I followed the scroll's instructions carefully, repeating each movement with patience. The motions began to feel smoother, more natural. The rod was still unbalanced, but I adjusted for it. My breathing steadied, my muscles relaxed.
And then something strange happened.
As I moved through the forms, I started to feel… connected.
Not just to the motions themselves, but to something deeper. The same quiet hum I had felt from the holocron—the same pulse from my crystal—it was there, beneath the surface, like the distant rhythm of an unseen current.
I let out a slow breath and moved into the next stance.
The ship around me faded. The weight of Kenobi's loss, the uncertainty of what lay ahead—all of it dulled as I let the Force guide me, my body flowing through the patterns, one step at a time.
For the first time in what felt like forever, I wasn't lost.
I was learning.
Already at 10 chapters, hope everyone is enjoying what im cooking up so far, like i said before, any constructive criticism and feedback is appreciated, as well as ratings to boost the story. And if anyones feeling generous, who am i to say no to a powerstone or two. Cheers.