#dark warning

“You are a kid,” Ferus said. “You’ve seen a lot and done more, but you’re still a kid, and I’m going to protect you when I have to. End of story. Now wait here. If I’m lucky, I’ll come out with Garen Muln and a lightsaber.”

“And if you aren't lucky, a gorgodon will chew you up and spit you out, and I'll sweep up the pieces,” Trever shot back.

“Charming,” Ferus said. “Good luck to you, too.”

He turned away. He'd only gone a few steps when Trever called after him.

“You'd better make it back!”

Smiling slightly, Ferus moved on.

“I’d like to offer my services,” he said. “Any chance to take a whack at the Empire, I’m for it.”

“We could use your help,” Toma said. “Raina, can you find our friend a ship?”

“Ferus…” Obi-Wan said, but he didn’t know how to finish the thought. He couldn’t forbid Ferus to go. That wasn’t his place. Ferus wasn’t his Padawan.

“Of course,” Ferus answered. How many times had he and the other Padawans—his friends—talked about the things that happened there, about the tests that would lead to the creation of their lightsabers? His Master, Siri, had taken him there when he was thirteen. She had left him in the caves to fight off his greatest fears—and although it had been terrifying, he had somehow maintained his calm. He made it through, and forged his own blade.

Then, in what seemed like no time at all, he gave up the lightsaber. Let it go.

But not entirely.

“I can forge a new lightsaber,” he said now, thinking how helpful this would be. “If I can get the crystals, I can do it again.”