The twin suns of Coruscant dipped low, casting warm orange light across the high towers of the Jedi Temple. The silence inside the Council Chamber was almost sacred—ancient, commanding. The air itself seemed to hold its breath.
Twelve Jedi Masters sat in solemn contemplation. At the center of the chamber stood Qui-Gon Jinn, tall and stubborn, a rare ember of rebellion within the Order's fire-forged discipline. Behind him, just outside the chamber doors, stood a small boy, dusty from travel, thin from hunger, and heavy with fate.
"His midi-chlorian count exceeds that of Master Yoda," Qui-Gon said, his voice resolute. "He is the Chosen One. The one who will bring balance to the Force."
There was a murmur of disquiet among the Council.
Mace Windu narrowed his gaze. "He's dangerous. His future is clouded."
Ki-Adi-Mundi nodded. "He's too old to begin the training. It's against the Code."
Even Yoda, wise and patient, looked pained. "Fear in him, I sense. A threat, his path may become."
And then… movement.
A figure rose from his seat. Broad-shouldered, composed, and carrying an unmistakable presence. The brown robes parted slightly to reveal a violet lightsaber hilt at his hip—weathered, but still gleaming with promise.
The Earthborn had spoken.
Master Martus Kael Vorran.
The first Jedi from the lost world of Earth in over a thousand years. Second in command of the Council. Apprentice once to Master Yoda. Guardian of balance. Wielder of both peace and fire.
"I will train the boy."
The room hushed as if struck by thunder.
Eyes turned toward him, some in curiosity, some in protest.
"You speak boldly," Plo Koon said. "And dangerously."
But Yoda raised a hand. "Let him speak."
Martus stepped forward, his boots silent on the polished floor. He glanced at Qui-Gon briefly, a mutual understanding between warriors. Then his gaze turned to the closed doors—where the boy waited.
"I sense what you all do. The fear. The shadow. The anger. But I also sense his heart—and the storm it contains."
He looked around the chamber.
"I come from a world that no longer appears on your star charts. A world that knew balance long before the Jedi forgot what it meant. Earth. A place of myth, fire, and evolution."
His voice deepened.
"On Earth, we do not deny the darkness. We understand it. And through understanding, we transcend it. That is what I will teach him."
Depa Billaba folded her arms. "And if you fail?"
"Then I will be waiting in the dark… for him."
The Council stirred again. This was no ordinary declaration. This was a Jedi who had walked the razor's edge between light and dark and come back whole.
Yoda leaned forward, peering at him through ancient eyes.
"Hmmm. Trust in you, I do. Very well. The boy… your Padawan he shall be."
Martus inclined his head in respect. Then he turned and walked to the great doors, which slid open without a word.
Anakin Skywalker stood there, hands fidgeting, eyes wide.
Martus knelt before him, eyes level with the boy's.
"I am Master Martus Kael Vorran. I come from Earth. And I will be your teacher."
Anakin blinked. "Are you a Jedi?"
The corner of Martus's mouth lifted slightly.
"I am something more."
The boy tilted his head. "Why… why me?"
"Because the Force chose you. Not for perfection—but for potential."
Anakin hesitated, then looked down.
"My mom and I… we were slaves. On Tatooine. Watto owned us. He let me go because I won the race, but…" He stopped. "My mother's still there."
Martus's expression darkened, not with anger—but with purpose.
"Then our first mission," he said quietly, "will be to free your mother. I promise you that."
Anakin looked up slowly. "You mean it?"
"I do."
Tears formed at the corners of the boy's eyes, and he blinked them back quickly. Martus rose and placed a hand on his shoulder, guiding him gently down the corridor.
"I heard you like to build things," Martus said.
"I do," Anakin nodded. "I built a droid. His name is C-3PO."
Martus smiled. "Then we're already alike."
They entered his quarters—unlike any other in the Temple. The walls were lined with ancient texts and modern inventions, humming devices and alien instruments. A hologram phone sat on the desk, its surface sleek and black. Martus tapped it, and a glowing projection hovered in the air, displaying blueprints, coordinates, and Force energy signatures across multiple star systems.
"This is Earth tech," he said proudly. "Advanced even by Republic standards. It uses neural-link command patterns. Voice activation. Real-time diagnostics."
Anakin's eyes lit up. "That's… incredible."
Martus reached into a drawer and pulled out a stack of thin, colorful books. "And these," he added, "are comic books."
Anakin blinked. "Comic books?"
"Stories," Martus explained, handing him one. "From Earth. About heroes. Not Jedi. Not Sith. Just people who chose to fight for what's right."
Anakin flipped through one with wide eyes. A man in red and blue soared through the sky with a cape billowing behind him.
"This one can fly," Anakin whispered. "And shoot beams from his eyes?"
"That's Superman," Martus said. "He protects his world not because anyone makes him—but because he chooses to."
Anakin looked up, hope flickering in his voice.
"Can I be like him?"
Martus crouched beside him, steady and warm.
"You already are."
The boy smiled—truly smiled—for the first time since leaving Tatooine.
Outside the window, the suns of Coruscant dipped below the skyline. Stars began to shimmer in the void above.
And inside the Temple… a new kind of Jedi had begun to rise.