It started with breath.
Sharp. Shallow. Instinctive.
Air rushed into tiny lungs—lungs that hadn't existed minutes ago. A small chest rose and fell beneath thin fabric, and fingers flexed with the clumsiness of youth. Awareness returned like sunlight through fog.
Aaron opened his eyes.
The ceiling above was pale stone, the air warm, filled with a low hum—faint, but familiar. The scent of incense and metal lingered. He blinked again, adjusting to the scale of the world around him.
He was small.
Very small.
He sat up too quickly and stumbled, his body not yet accustomed to its own movements. He caught a glimpse of himself in a polished panel on the wall—brown tousled hair, soft human features, wide green eyes. A child. Maybe five years old. Maybe younger. The mirror looked strange from this low height.
But his mind?
Fully intact.
The memories of his old life were still there. Earth. His family. The years of studying philosophy, swordsmanship, martial arts—everything he could never fully master because life always got in the way. But now, all of it was with him. Refined. Sharpened.
"The Temple..." he whispered.
Because he knew this place.
Jedi Temple. Coruscant. Towering above the skyline. Hidden chambers. Ancient texts. And the hum—he recognized it now: the Force. He wasn't just imagining it.
It was singing through the walls.
A chime sounded.
The door slid open.
A Twi'lek woman entered, her lekku draped elegantly over her shoulders. She wore Jedi robes, and her voice was soft but measured.
"Ah, you're awake, little one. How are you feeling?"
Aaron blinked. Okay, play it cool. Five-year-old body, but not a five-year-old mind.
He nodded carefully. "I feel fine, Master."
She tilted her head, amused. "You don't have to call me that yet, child. I'm Heera. You can call me Heera."
She walked over and crouched beside him, checking his vitals with a small handheld scanner. "You were brought here two days ago. Another group of Initiates rescued from the Outer Rim. You've been sleeping since."
Aaron faked confusion, forcing his face into a blank, childlike stare. "I don't remember much."
She gave him a look that lingered, then smiled. "That's normal. You've been through a lot."
He nodded again, but inside his thoughts were racing.
Outer Rim? Rescued? That means my identity's covered—nice. No paperwork, no family to look for me. I'm just another lost child. Perfect.
Heera stood and gestured. "Come. It's time for you to meet the others. You'll be placed in Clan Ukk. It's a good group."
Aaron slid off the bed, wobbling slightly, and followed her out.
The corridor opened to a long hall carved with ancient murals. Jedi history lined the walls—carvings of sabers, Masters, battles. He felt a shiver. These weren't just decorations. They were real. These people, these stories—he'd read about them. Seen them in films.
Now he was in them.
As they walked, he passed other younglings, all dressed in identical beige robes. Some laughed, others sparred with wooden staffs. Their Force signatures were like small flames—barely lit, flickering.
He reached out, just to see.
And instantly recoiled.
He could feel them. Emotions. Focus.
Hunger. Doubt. All swirling around him like wind currents. It was overwhelming.
I need to learn control. Fast.
Heera led him to a wide, circular room with a sunken floor. Six children sat in a ring around an elderly Kel Dor Master in deep meditation.
"Master Pura," Heera said, "this is the new one."
The Kel Dor opened his eyes, his mask hissing softly.
"Welcome, child," he said in a voice like thunder wrapped in silk. "You are among family now."
Aaron bowed his head. "Thank you, Master."
Pura studied him for a moment. Not unkindly. Just... intently.
"I sense the Force is strong in you," the Master murmured. "Stronger than you know."
Aaron swallowed.
You have no idea.