Setting: Jedi Temple, Coruscant
Timeframe: 36 BBY
Cain's Age: 4 (almost 5)
Status: Not yet an Initiate—still in basic observation, acclimation, and aptitude development.
Scene 1: Building the Foundation
The morning sun bathed the Temple in golden light, diffusing through the high-arched transparisteel windows of the children's dormitory. Cain sat cross-legged on a simple woven mat, back straight, palms resting gently on his knees.
"Breathe," whispered the instructor, a patient Togruta Jedi Knight named Master Tasi Vaan. "Feel the Force not as something you command… but as something you let flow through you."
Cain exhaled slowly. The Force thrummed in his blood like a second heartbeat. It whispered in the stone floors, danced on the air currents, and echoed in the presence of the children nearby.
Around him, the other younglings strained to still their minds. Some fidgeted, others yawned. A few had faces twisted in concentration.
Cain did nothing. He simply was.
And it came to him.
Connection. Stillness. Presence.
Master Tasi's eyes opened and scanned the room. They paused on Cain for a moment—just a breath longer than the others. Then she continued without comment.
After meditation, came lessons in movement—balance drills on shifting plates, precision walks across narrow beams. It was basic, preparatory training, meant to strengthen bodies and tune instincts.
Cain didn't rush or show off. Instead, he observed—not just himself, but his peers. When Derren fell from the balancing beam for the third time, Cain offered a helpful tip in a quiet voice.
"Shift your hips left before you take the step. You're overcompensating."
Derren tried again—this time staying upright.
"How'd you know that?" he asked, eyes wide.
Cain shrugged, smiling. "Just watched."
Master Tasi made no comment, but her slight nod of approval did not go unnoticed.
Echoes of Rivalry
In the training ring, the younglings practiced grip forms using practice rods—short staffs made of wood, wrapped in leather. The session focused on Form I – Shii-Cho, the most basic of lightsaber techniques.
Cain didn't try to win. He flowed. Calm, patient, balanced. When Derren rushed him wildly, Cain sidestepped and gently tapped his chest with the rod.
"Too forward," he said kindly, helping his friend up.
He never gloated. He never celebrated. But it became clear to the others—Cain was different.
Seris noticed most of all.
After her session, she approached him during rest. Her silver hair was tied tightly back, her pale face flushed.
" Do you pity them" she said, arms crossed.
Cain blinked. "What?"
"You're holding back. Then you help others catch up. Why?"
Cain didn't answer immediately. He chose his words carefully.
"No I don't pity them. I help because they needed it. They did the rest on their own. Me helping them doesn't hurt anyone."
Seris narrowed her eyes. "That's doesn't make you a better Jedi."
He tilted his head. "doesn't it?"
She stormed off without answering.
Lessons in History
Later, they sat in an archive classroom. Holo's of ancient Jedi floated above them, projected from the pedestal lectured by Chief Liberian Jocasta Nu .
"This was Master Nomi Sunrider," Jocasta said, "leader during the Great Sith War… and this, the fallen Ulic Qel-Droma..."
Cain's hand twitched.
Why aren't we learning what caused the fall? The true dangers of suppression, isolation, fear?
He leaned forward slightly. She's skipping over critical details—Nomi's grief, Ulic's redemption, even the teachings of Master Thon and the tensions that fractured the early Order.
Beside him, Seris whispered, "You're doing it again."
"Doing what?"
"Thinking too hard."
Cain cracked a smile. "That's how I learn."
She didn't smile back. Instead, she narrowed her eyes, as if daring him to correct the lesson aloud.
But he didn't.
Because that, too, was part of the game. Subtlety. Growth through patience.
The Quiet Helper
That night, Cain walked quietly through the dormitories, barefoot, his white hair reflecting the soft glow of the nightlamps. He passed Derren's room and paused—he could hear frustrated breathing.
He stepped inside. Derren sat on his bunk, face buried in his hands.
"Still thinking about today?" Cain asked.
Derren looked up. "I suck at everything. I'm not like you or Seris. Maybe I'm not even meant to be a Jedi."
Cain sat beside him. "You ever hear the story of the Temple Guardian who couldn't lift a pebble?"
Derren sniffed. "No."
Cain looked up at the ceiling, recalling a half-remembered tale from an obscure comic or data book back in his other life.
"He trained for years. Everyone laughed at him. But he never gave up. Then one day, he wasn't lifting rocks anymore—he was stopping landslides. It just took time."
Derren stared at him. "That's real?"
Cain smiled. "It could be."
The First Recognition
The next day, Master Tasi gathered the group after a sparring drill.
"You are all beginning to show promise," she said. "But I would like to acknowledge one of you—not just for preforming well, but for helping the others grow."
Her eyes landed on Cain.
"Cain has shown insight, humility, and support for his clanmates. He does not compete for praise, but strengthens others. This is the mark of a Jedi."
Cain tried not to squirm. The attention was uncomfortable.
Seris said nothing. But her jaw tightened, and that night, she trained longer in the empty room beside the dorms—alone, striking a dummy with quiet precision.
She was watching. She was learning. And she wasn't going to be left behind.
A New Presence
Cain sat in one of the shaded alcoves near the Temple's Meditation Gardens, his knees folded beneath him, hands resting calmly in his lap. He'd been coming here more often—when training was done, when Derren was off roughhousing, and when Seris was pushing herself too hard in the practice room.
Today, he wasn't alone.
A soft rustle of robes stirred behind him, followed by a calm, quiet voice.
"Do you always sit this still when the garden is alive with motion?"
Cain turned slightly.
A young girl—maybe a year older than him—stood just inside the archway, watching him. Her skin was a soft green, face a Mirialan Cain noticed. Her dark eyes shimmered with curiosity, not challenge.
"I like the stillness," Cain said. "It helps me listen."
"To the wind?" she asked.
"To everything," he replied.
She considered that for a moment, then stepped forward and sat across from him. "I'm Barriss. Barriss Offee."
"Cain," he said, smiling gently. "It's nice to meet you."
They sat together in silence for a few minutes. Birds sang in the distance. Light filtered through tall leaves. The air smelled of nerra blossoms.
Barriss finally broke the quiet.
"I saw you in meditation yesterday. You went deeper than most of us."
Cain's brow lifted slightly. "How can you tell?"
"I saw your breathing slow… then it stopped."
Cain blinked. "You were watching me?"
"I always watch," she said simply. "It helps me learn. But… I don't understand why it's so easy for you. For me, it's like… climbing a wall."
Cain didn't answer right away. Instead, he picked up a fallen leaf and placed it between them.
"Do you see the lines in this?"
Barriss nodded.
"They don't rush. They don't fight each other. They just are. Meditation isn't about stilling everything. It's about flowing with what's already there."
She looked at the leaf again.
"…That's beautiful," she whispered.
He smiled.
And that was how their friendship began.
The Watchful Eye
Elsewhere in the Temple, Master Fay stood at the edge of a high balcony, her long silver hair drifting in the breeze like moonlight. She wore no traditional Jedi robes, only a simple pale gown that shimmered faintly under the glow of the Coruscanti skyline.
She was waiting.
Footsteps approached—quick, clipped. Seris.
The young Echani girl came to a halt, breathing slightly heavy from her training session. She bowed.
"You summoned me, Master?"
"I did not summon," Fay said softly. "I invited."
Seris stood straight, uncertain. Fay turned to face her.
"You train well," the Master said. "But your heart stirs with more than motion."
Seris didn't answer.
Fay stepped forward, her presence overwhelming and yet serene. "Your frustration lies not in your weakness… but in someone else's strength."
Seris bristled. "…Cain."
"Jealousy is not shameful, child. Only clinging to it is."
Seris looked away. "He doesn't even try. He just… gets it."
"And what do you see when he speaks to others? To you?"
"…He helps. He encourages. But it feels like pity sometimes."
Fay knelt, her ancient eyes level with the girl. "Then rise. Become his equal. Not just through rivalry. Through growth. Let him sharpen and inspire your edge, and let your edge inspire his and sharpen his."
Seris looked up, startled. "You want me to work with him?"
"I want you to walk beside him. Not behind. Not ahead. Beside."
The words lingered.
After a long pause, Seris finally asked, "Can I still beat him in a sparring match?"
Fay smiled, eyes glinting with ancient amusement. "Go for it."
The Growing Trio
In the days that followed, Cain continued practicing with Derren, but now Barriss joined them. She was calm where Derren was wild, thoughtful where he was expressive. Together, the three filled each other's gaps.
Seris began watching them more often, then started joining the same sessions, offering tips with practiced grace and challenging Cain more directly in sparring.
During one such session, Cain offered a hand after disarming her.
She stared at it.
Then smirked—and pulled him into a leg sweep that took him flat on his back.
Derren howled with laughter. Barriss raised an eyebrow.
Seris stood over him and offered her hand this time.
"Help me improve and I'll help you improve," she said.
Cain grinned and took it.
"Deal."
Setting: Jedi Temple – Training Rings, Reflection Chambers, Clan Assembly Hall
Characters Focused: Cain, Seris, Barriss Offee, Derren, Master Fay
Timeframe: Cain is now nearing 5 years old.
Visions in Stillness
The room was dark, save for the dim blue of the meditation crystal at its center. Cain sat cross-legged across from Master Fay, who glided silently around him in a wide, slow circle.
"This will not be like the others," Fay said, her voice a soft hum in the Force. "Today, you will not reach into the Force. You will let the Force reach into you."
Cain's eyelids fluttered closed. He took a slow breath. The air felt heavier today, more alive.
"Let go," Fay whispered. "Let it show you what is hidden."
And so he did.
The Force swirled like a river through his senses. He felt the stone floor beneath him, the distant laughter of children down the hall, the quiet thoughts of Derren stumbling through a lightsaber drill, the steady rhythm of Seris solo kata in the next room.
And then…
…darkness.
A rising storm.
He saw armored soldiers, faceless and obedient. Jedi falling. Worlds burning. A throne room cloaked in shadow. And a man in black—shattered and enraged, wielding red lightning and regret in equal measure.
Anakin?
Cain's breath hitched.
Suddenly—light.
A second vision flashed.
He stood atop a cliff, beside Seris, Barriss, and Derren, overlooking a peaceful valley. Behind them were Jedi, Mandalorian's, and Force users of every kind. In his hand, he held no weapon—only a glowing golden light.
And then it was gone.
His eyes opened. Fay stood before him, her expression unreadable.
"What did you see?" she asked.
Cain hesitated. Then: "The future. Or a possible one."
Fay's lips curved into a faint smile.
"Good," she whispered. "Then you're ready."
One Last Lesson
Later that week, the younglings gathered for their final tests before being formally placed into clans. The Bear Clan, Hawk Clan, Katarn Clan, and others were preparing to receive their new members.
Cain stood with Derren and Barriss outside the training chamber, quietly reciting the breathing cadence while Seris practiced forms at double-speed near the corner.
"She's gonna break her saber at this rate," Derren muttered.
"She's pushing herself harder," Barriss said. "Since Cain got praised last week."
"I didn't ask for that," Cain said quietly.
"I know," Barriss replied. "But she doesn't know how to let herself just… be. Not yet."
Cain watched Seris, then took a few steps toward her.
"Don't," Derren warned. "She's got that 'about to kill someone' look again."
Cain approached anyway.
"You know we're not being ranked, right?" he said calmly.
She didn't stop her drills. "You think I care about that?"
"I think you care about proving you're not behind."
She stopped. Her breath came short. Her face was flushed.
"I'm not behind."
Cain tilted his head. "Then prove it with us, not against us."
Seris stared at him… then lowered her training rod.
"I'll hold you to that."
The Gathering of the Clans
The Initiate Assembly Hall was a wide, circular chamber, its floor marked with symbols representing the various training clans. High above sat Masters representing the Order's various branches—Temple Guardians, Archive Keepers, Combat Instructors, and even three seated members of the Jedi High Council: Plo Koon, Adi Gallia, and Oppo Rancisis.
One by one, names were called. Children stepped forward to receive their clan assignments.
When Cain's name was called, he stepped forward without fear.
Master Plo Koon looked down from the dais, his deep voice gentle through the modulator. "Cain. Your presence in the Force is calm… and curious."
"Bear Clan," Master Gallia declared. "With Master Dookan Yill as instructor."
Cain nodded and moved to his new place in the circle.
"Seris Vhalan."
She followed immediately after.
"Bear Clan."
She stood beside Cain, not looking at him… but not pushing away, either.
"Derren Talvos… Bear Clan."
His shout of "Yes!" echoed through the chamber, earning a few chuckles.
"Barriss Offee…"
A pause.
"…Bear Clan."
Cain's heart lifted.
He didn't know if the Council had placed them together intentionally, but in that moment, he understood something.
The Force was weaving its threads.
And the story was beginning.