Timeframe: Late 33 BBY – Cain is now 7 years old
Setting: Jedi Temple – High Dome Sparring Ring
The High Dome Sparring Ring echoed with the hum of training sabers and the sound of breath and movement. Soft sunlight streamed down through the open skylight as Cain, Seris, and Derren circled one another within a marked tri-circle formation—three Initiates, three sparring styles, no clear alliances.
Selani Varn paced along the edge of the platform, arms behind her back.
"Balance," she called out. "Control. Patience. This isn't about winning. It's about "reading" the rhythm."
Seris moved first—fast, direct, testing Cain with a high feint before switching to Derren with a backstep slash. Derren blocked, stumbled, and spun, catching Cain's advance in time with a clumsy but strong parry.
Cain didn't press. He was analyzing. Watching.
His blade dipped low, redirecting Seris's follow-up and tapping Derren's elbow.
"Too wide," he said gently.
"Still hit you," Derren muttered.
Selani smirked.
"You're all improving," she said. "But Cain—try not to narrate every weakness."
Cain grinned slightly. "Noted."
Just as they reset, the chamber doors hissed open.
A New Presence
Master Dookan Yill entered the hall—tall, robed in deep gray, his presence calm but commanding. At his side walked a boy—slightly older than the Initiates, with sun-bleached blond hair, dust-worn boots, and eyes full of grief that had yet to settle into wisdom.
Anakin Skywalker.
The sparring ring stilled.
Whispers moved like wind through the Initiates watching from the viewing steps.
That's the slave boy from Tatooine.
He's the Chosen One.
Isn't he to old to be accepted for training?...
Cain stood upright, lowering his saber. His golden eyes locked onto Anakin's.
He felt it—not just the raw strength, but the fracture. Something heavy and frayed sat behind Anakin's stillness. Pain wrapped in pride. A heart already preparing to wall itself off.
Cain took a breath.
And stepped forward.
"Hi," he said, loud enough for the chamber to hear. "I'm Cain."
Anakin blinked, caught off guard.
Cain turned to Dookan. "Master… may I help him catch up to the class?"
Even Selani turned, surprised.
Dookan studied Cain for a long moment.
"I believe that would be… wise," he said. "If young Skywalker is willing."
Anakin looked uncertain. "You don't have to—"
Cain held up a hand. "I don't have to. I want to."
Anakin's shoulders eased. He nodded. "Okay."
Building the Bridge
That afternoon, Cain walked with Anakin through the Initiate Archives, helping him navigate the schedule on a shared datapad.
"The Initiate schedule's tight. Morning meditation, Force drills, movement training, philosophy, then sparring blocks after lunch," Cain explained.
Anakin followed quietly, absorbing everything.
"Do you miss him?" Cain asked gently.
"…Qui-Gon?" Anakin's voice dropped.
Cain nodded.
"Yeah," Anakin whispered. "He was… the first person who saw me."
Cain placed a hand on his shoulder. "Now you've got more eyes on you than ever."
Anakin looked up. "That's not always good."
Cain smiled. "Then let's help you earn the right ones."
A New Rhythm
Selani ran a basic four-person drill with Cain, Anakin, Seris, and Derren—partner sparring, alternating pairs.
Cain and Anakin moved well together. Not perfect—but Cain adjusted his pace, showed him hand signals mid-fight, whispered tactics when the others circled.
Anakin's strikes were fast, raw, but strong.
"Your stance is solid," Cain said. "But you're forcing it. The fight doesn't have to hurt."
"…But it does," Anakin replied.
Seris—watching the exchange—softened. After the drill, she approached.
"You're strong," she said to Anakin, direct but not unkind. "But you're reckless."
He shrugged. "I'm used to fighting to survive."
She tilted her head, then offered a training saber.
"Then let's teach you how to fight smart."
Even Derren chimed in. "I'll help too, but I'm not sparring you till Cain tunes you down."
That made Anakin laugh—just a little.
Watching Eyes
That evening, in the quiet corridors above the sparring floors, Master Fay stood beside Master Dookan Yill, overlooking the chamber from a wide observation balcony.
"He sees the fracture in the boy," Fay said.
"Yes," Dookan replied. "And instead of avoiding it, he reaches out."
"Cain is not meant for the old Order," Fay murmured.
"…No," Dookan said quietly. "He's meant to build a new one."