The Fallen Star (Star Wars: The High Republic)

by Claudia Gray

Stellan Gios was among those Jedi who perceived the Force as the entire firmament of stars in the sky.

Being a Jedi was a sacred duty—but the light demanded more than obedience and sacrifice. Sometimes a Jedi had to be open to the simple, pure experience of joy.

Regald missed the old days when he had worked in the Jedi crèche, where when you saw a problem (three-year-old fascinated by fire), the solution was obvious (remove three-year-old from vicinity of fire).

Padawans often fooled around together on the sly; adolescence, a phase in virtually every sentient species, demanded its due. Instructors and Masters pretended not to notice as long as nobody went too far. When relationships formed, reprimands were rare. Instead a Master would promptly take her apprentice away on a long-term mission far from any Jedi temple. By the time a reunion could take place, both younger people had generally grown up, gained perspective, and moved on.

Acceptance was strength. It was being able to carry the weight of what had been, and what had not, through all the many days, months, years, and decades to follow.

The Nihil were bad, sure, but try managing a roomful of toddlers who’ve missed their nap and just figured out they can basically do magic.

Darkness will ever be a part of me, he reminded himself. It will ever be a part of every Jedi, of every living thing. To acknowledge the darkness is to know the darkness. To know the darkness is to begin to control it.

“A small pastime of mine is learning the literary collective names of things,” Orla said. “You know, like a grove of Wookiees or a tinker of droids?” “Or a bulge of Hutts.” Regald nodded. “I admit, I’ve always liked an illumination of Jedi.” “Well, the collective name for these guys is a remorse of rathtars.”

data, and a slow smile began to

“This is what hope is. It isn’t pretending that nothing will go wrong if only we try hard enough. It’s looking squarely at all the obstacles in the way—knowing the limits of our own power, and the possibility of failure—and moving ahead anyway. That is how we must proceed. With hope.”

Avar murmured, “Stellan always saw the Force as the firmament. As brilliant and expansive as all the stars in the galaxy.” “He told me that he saw the three of us as a constellation.” Elzar’s vision blurred with tears he fiercely blinked away. “An incomplete one now.” “No. He’s still with us, as surely as the Force is with us. Stellan has become one with the Force, after all.” Avar leaned her head against Elzar’s shoulder. “And when we think of him—we can always find him, as long as we look to the sky.” Elzar held her close. “Our polestar still shines.”