Master and Apprentice (Star Wars)

by Claudia Gray

Prophecy in dreams is possible through the illumination of the active intellect over our soul. —Ibn Rushd, also known as Averroes

“One of these prophecies says something about ‘She who will be born to darkness will give birth to darkness.’

‘When the kyber that is not kyber shines forth, the time of prophecy will be at hand.’

‘When the righteous lose the light, evil once dead shall return.’ That’s so vague it could refer to anything or anyone! And then the whole ‘Chosen One’ nonsense—”

Why should we listen to these prophecies? Master Yoda has always taught that looking into the future is uncertain at best.”

-Obi Wan

“The answer to your question is…complex. Give me a moment to gather my thoughts, so I can give you the reply you deserve.”

“Isn’t that the definition of a prophecy? A prediction about what’s to come?” “In some senses. But prophecies are also about the present. The ancient Jedi mystics were attempting to look into the future, but they were rooted in their own time—as we all are.”

“They could only predict the future through the prism of their own experience. So by studying their words, their warnings, we learn more about their ways than any history holo could ever teach us. And by asking ourselves how we interpret these prophecies, we discover our own fears, hopes, and limitations.”

“You mean, you don’t take the prophecies literally.” “Once, when I was younger—” Qui-Gon shrugged. “But no. I don’t. However, I also don’t assume they’re meaningless, like most Jedi these days. Learning what the ancient mystics believed ties us to our history.”

“The Jedi don’t have such mystics anymore,” Obi-Wan pointed out. “We’re meant to put aside visions of the future, because we can’t know whether they’ll come to pass. Master Yoda even says such visions can bring a Jedi to darkness.”

“Yes, seeking to know the future can be a form of control, which can l...

“And learning the forms of lightsaber combat is a way of preparing for violence. Violence, too, can lead to the dark side.

Master Dooku had shaken his head ruefully and said, “Darkness is a part of nature, too, Qui-Gon. Equally as fundamental as the light. Always remember this.”)

‘One will ascend to the highest of the Jedi despite the foreboding of those who would serve with him.’

“The prophecies aren’t to be taken literally.”

-Qui-Gon

“People are more than their worst act,” Obi-Wan recited. It was something Qui-Gon had said to him many times, which at last seemed to be sinking in. “At least, most people. And they are also more than the worst thing ever done to them.”

When the kyber that is not kyber shines forth, the time of prophecy will be at hand.

The orange glow of the kohlen crystals. The kyber that is not kyber.

Qui-Gon stands in the cave. The orange crystals glitter around him, reflecting a source of light he cannot see. Then the crystals darken, turning red—as though with Sith fire. He hears a scream. No, several screams. He can no longer see the crystals, because the cave has turned white. Has turned glorious, with gilded walls and a glass ceiling that looks up at the sky. Beneath his feet are midnight-blue tiles. And ahead of him, he glimpses the colorless image of a blazing lightsaber superimposed over Princess Fanry’s face. “The Skykeeper!” someone shouts. Qui-Gon looks for whoever spoke—looks for anything he will recognize or understand—but he looks in vain. Another voice shrieks in terror as the lightsaber slashes downward. In the very far distance he hears somebody say, very calmly, “Even the Jedi can fall”—

Qui-Gon's vision

Most dreams faded quickly upon awakening, but this one only grew more vivid.

It felt…more than real. It felt certain. The ancient mystics had sought visions of the future. In return, they’d been visited with dreams like this one, dreams they spun into cryptic “predictions”

the moment the door swung shut behind Selbie, Qui-Gon said, “Have you forgotten yourself entirely?” Averross laughed. “Oh, please. Like you didn’t—” “This isn’t about what happened in my past,” Qui-Gon said. “Oh, no? Guess it’s about hypocrisy, then.” “There is a difference,” Qui-Gon insisted, righteous as ever, “between falling in love and simply giving oneself license to do as one pleases.” “Yeah, there is.” Damn, but Averross wished he had that ale around now. “Falling in love—that’s what the Jedi Code forbids. Getting laid? Not so much, not if it’s casual, like me and Selbie. That doesn’t compromise my emotions, doesn’t divide my loyalties, anything like that. I might’ve broken the letter of the law, but not the spirit. On Felucia, you broke the spirit of that law into a dozen pieces.”

Qui-Gon fell in love

Averross scoffed as he lit a cigarra. “Seriously? You came runnin’ in here because you had a bad dream?” Qui-Gon gave him a dark look. “This wasn’t a mere nightmare, Rael. It was troubling, but more than that, it was vivid. Startlingly so. And it seemed to be during Princess Fanry’s coronation.”

“The sequence of events isn’t clear. But it was so strong—so urgent—”

You know that the mystics truly saw things, that the Force did work through them.” “Yeah, but that’s not the same as actually learning the whole future. A vision’s way short of an actual prophecy. And those guys spent their entire lifetimes searchin’ just for visions.

“You know, there’ve always been a few Jedi—let’s be honest, more than a few—who see celibacy as an ideal, not a rule.” “I’m coming to believe that we must all interpret the Code for ourselves,” Qui-Gon said, “or it ceases to be a living pact and becomes nothing but a prison cell.”

Only through sacrifice of many Jedi will the Order cleanse the sin done to the nameless.

The danger of the past is not past, but sleeps in an egg. When the egg cracks, it will threaten the galaxy entire.

When the Force itself sickens, past and future must s...

A Chosen One shall come, born of no father, and through him will ultimate balance in the Force be restored.

The chosen one prophecy

“The ancient mystics had these visions in trances?” Qui-Gon asked. Rael nodded.

“The kyber crystals do determine the color of the blade, but they only take on their colors after their bond with the Jedi who’ve chosen them.” Fanry’s eyes widened. “Kyber crystals bond with Jedi? Does that mean you…communicate with them?” With a grin, he said, “No. Just—their particular properties are affected by their proximity to a Force user. Very swiftly, the bond forms, and then the kyber crystals change. Most turn blue or green, which is why most Jedi’s lightsabers are those colors. A few crystals even turn purple.”

in combat, a lightsaber is an unparalleled weapon for both attack and defense. And because using the blade requires immense concentration and keen reflexes, no one but a Force user can wield lightsabers skillfully or efficiently.”

With the Force as our ally, we’re always strong.” “True, Padawan. Unfortunately, it’s also true that you and I wound up cornered today, with no way out. We survived only because the Opposition intervened. Some Jedi become complacent—even arrogant—about the power the Force gives us. That power is great and profound, but it is not absolute. Never forget that.”

“The Jedi don’t make the Republic do anything. We serve the Republic, not the other way around. But as to why the Republic doesn’t act…I have no good answer for you.” Rahara wiped her cheek roughly, with the back of one hand. “If the Republic can’t do something as decent and basic as attack slavery, why do we have a Republic to begin with?” Qui-Gon repeated, “I have no good answer.” Enslavement was one of the evils that existed outside the Republic—a dirty fact of life there, one the Republic had never sought to eradicate. Some planets had never operated under any other system of labor. And different species interpreted slavery in different ways. The concept meant something rather different to humans than it did to, say, the T’zaki, insectoid beings who shared a hive mind. In the T’zaki language, the word freedom translated roughly as “purposelessness.” But for the overwhelming majority of sentients, slavery was deeply painful, and its operation extremely corrupt.

“I saw the treaty ceremony.” Qui-Gon’s voice was low, contemplative. “As vividly as though I were there, or more so. Yet there were surreal elements—screaming, blood. A vision of my lightsaber, brought up as though to block an attack. But maybe it was the treaty itself I was meant to be blocking.” Obi-Wan worded his response carefully. “That does sound rather…symbolic.” Surely that was safe to say. Many dreams were symbolic.

“Visions from the Force always have a meaning deeper than what first appears. If this is a vision…then I must find what is hidden within it.”

The prophecy about the woman who was born to and would give birth to darkness—that might refer to an ancient duchess of Malastare whose father had waged wars that were vicious even by Malastarian standards, and whose daughter had become a Dark Jedi.

Another prophecy said the Sith would disappear yet appear again. Most of the notes on this prophecy interpreted it as the potential reincarnation of the Sith Order, but Qui-Gon wondered whether it might not be referring to a specific Sith, a legendary Darth Wrend, who had been believed dead but returned to wage war against the Jedi once more…

“Why do we allow this barbarism to flourish? The Republic could use its influence to promote abolition in countless systems where the practice flourishes. How can we fail to do this?” Yoda remained silent for a few moments before saying, “Know of the planet Uro, do you? Devour their weakest children, they do.” “…they’re arachnids, whose instincts are unstoppable.” “What of Byss?” When Qui-Gon shook his head no, Yoda said, “When their elderly grow too old to regenerate, beat them to death, the Abyssin do, to conserve their resources.” Qui-Gon’s patience began to wear thin. “This isn’t about imposing human ethics on nonhuman species. This is something humans do to one another, an atrocity we should put an end to.” “We? Not the chancellor, not the Galactic Senate, not even the people of the Republic, but the Jedi?” Yoda thumped his gimer stick on the floor. “Want to rule, do you? Dangerous this is, in one who would join the Council. Dangerous it is in any Jedi.” Qui-Gon knew all of this. On one level, he accepted the truth of it. On the other—“If we don’t stand for the right, what do we do? Why do we exist?” “Many ways there are of serving the right,” Yoda replied. “We work within our mandates, and there do as much good as we can. To do otherwise, to substitute our judgment for that of the Republic, is to repeat the mistakes of the past.” So instead we make different mistakes in the present? Qui-Gon kept this to himself. A galactic crusade against slavery beyond the reaches o...

He stood in the Celestial Chalice, the curved amphitheater to the ancient gods within the Pijali palace. This was the place for the treaty ceremony, and everything was about to begin. Fanry walked toward him, her dress shining white, her brilliant red hair hanging free, her clothing all the more vivid against the dark-blue-tiled floor of the Chalice— —and everything went mad, turned into a jumble Qui-Gon couldn’t comprehend. People screamed. Minister Orth pushed roughly through the crowd, toward the altar. Rael shouted, “Fanry, no!” Qui-Gon brought up his lightsaber, ready to strike—but at what? At whom? Something had to be done—

It felt as though he had traveled through time and back again. The events yet to come were more real to him than the sheets, the mattress, the sound of his own breath. Another vision granted by the Force, he thought. No. More of the same vision. Another angle. A deeper look.

It was exactly like this in my dream, he thought, then caught himself. What Qui-Gon had experienced was no dream. It was a vision.

What I do know is that I’ve had two separate visions that predict disaster at the treaty ceremony.” Captain Deren finally spoke. “What kind of disaster?” Qui-Gon admitted, “It’s unclear.” “Unclear.” With one fist, Rael pounded the table. “You want to sabotage the coronation and the hyperspace corridor for something that’s ‘unclear.’ ” “What’s not unclear is the screaming I hear in the visions.” Qui-Gon looked around the banqueting table, piled high with more breakfast than a dozen courts could ever eat, making eye contact with each person in turn. “Nor fighting with a lightsaber. Nor blood on the floor of the Celestial Chalice. And if any of you could feel the fear and despair that came with that vision—that is as much a part of it as any image or sound—you wouldn’t doubt this any more than I do.”

Qui-Gon had not yet shared his vision with the Council, nor did he intend to. They would spend all their time bickering about the viability of the hyperspace corridor. They were too bound to Coruscant. Too bound to the chancellor. Too far from the living Force. They were no longer the sort of Jedi who could trust in a pure vision. It shocked him that he was that Jedi. That he could still find it in him to believe so profoundly, so unshakably, in pure mysticism. Qui-Gon had often felt out of step with the Order as a whole, but never to this degree. He had also never felt this close to the Force.

“You said yourself, the mystics’ visions of the future shouldn’t be taken literally. That they were merely interpretations of their current circumstances, projected upon the future. Isn’t that precisely what you’re doing here?” Qui-Gon felt as though he’d said those words half a lifetime ago. “Obi-Wan, I was wrong. A true vision of the future is more than a simple dream, or a figment of the imagination. It’s the simultaneous perception of two points in time—beyond anything my mind, or yours, had previously encountered. So it’s no surprise that I didn’t understand it before, and that you don’t now.”

“So now you believe that ‘she who was born to darkness will give birth to darkness’?”

Could be about Mother Talzin birthing Maul?

Are you going to take every single one of these hazy mystical prophecies literally from now on?” It took Qui-Gon a moment to admit it, not to Obi-Wan but to himself. “Yes. I think I have to. Now that I stand where the prophets have stood, I must listen to them in humility, not in judgment.

“Wanting to see the future, to predict it and change our behaviors accordingly—that’s a kind of control we’re not meant to have, Qui-Gon. You’re reaching for a power that others cannot have. That path can lead to darkness.”

“I’m not turning to the dark side,” Qui-Gon snapped. “Not every disagreement with Jedi orthodoxy turns you into a Sith Lord overnight.”