---
**In the shadows of the Jedi Temple, Evalie Arden has a secret-a penchant for 'borrowing' ancient Jedi texts long after the Temple has gone silent. But when a forbidden truth reaches her ears, she finds herself entangled in a dangerous secret, o...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
The Jedi Temple was shrouded in stillness, the usual hum of life now replaced by a deep, echoing silence that filled its ancient halls. The stone corridors, bathed in the soft glow of moonlight filtering through tall windows, seemed to stretch endlessly before Evalie. Her small hands clutched a bundle of ancient Jedi texts close to her chest, the worn leather bindings creaking softly with each cautious step she took.
Evalie's heart raced as she moved through the empty halls, her white hair falling over her eyes as she tried to remain inconspicuous. She knew the rules—no students were allowed outside their quarters after a certain hour, and certainly not to wander the restricted sections of the Temple archives. But Evalie was not like most students. Luke Skywalker deemed her more suitable for the advanced class, and her move had come with increased expectations. She wasn't one to let the Jedi rules stop her from excelling.
The texts she carried were old, forbidden to most Padawans. They contained knowledge of the Force and certain combat manoeuvres. She yearned to understand the Force, to understand herself and the idea of the texts resting, unused and gathering dust, was something she couldn't accept. So, in the dead of night, she had slipped out, careful to avoid the Temple guards, to seek the knowledge she craved.
As she rounded a corner, Evalie's breath caught in her throat. Voices—faint but unmistakable—echoed down the corridor. Her first instinct was to retreat, but curiosity anchored her feet in place. Creeping closer, she pressed herself against the cool stone wall, peering around the corner where the voices originated.
It was Master Luke Skywalker, his figure silhouetted against the soft light of the Temple's central chamber. Standing before him, tall and tense, was Ben Solo. Evalie's heart skipped a beat. She knew of Ben—everyone did, the prodigal nephew of Luke Skywalker. But she had never seen Ben or Master Skywalker like this. The air between them was charged, almost palpable, like the calm before a storm.
Evalie could feel the brewing emotion. She clutched at her chest. Anger. Pure, unbridled anger is what she felt within her. She didn't understand where it had come from.
"You must understand, Ben," Luke's voice was calm but edged with a sternness that made Evalie's grip on the books tighten. "Whatever is wrong, you must confront it. Avoiding it, letting it fester, will only lead to turmoil."
Ben's voice, low and strained, echoed back. "You don't understand..." He flexed his fists, and Evalie could hear the anger in his voice.
Evalie's breath hitched as she listened, her heart pounding against her ribs. There was a sinking feeling within her chest; this was not a conversation for her to hear. She shouldn't be hearing this. She knew it. But her feet wouldn't move.
Luke sighed, placing a hand on Ben's shoulder. "The Force is not just about power; it's about control, more importantly, balance."
Ben didn't reply immediately. His gaze fixed on the ground; his fists clenched at his sides. After what felt like an eternity, he finally spoke, his voice barely above a whisper. "I understand, Uncle." His words felt empty.
