Control The Uncontrollable // The Acolyte

112. Future

Years later.

It turns out, the Force is what brings balance to all living things. It exists within us all, yet no two beings experience it in quite the same way. We perceive it through our own understanding, shaped by our thoughts, emotions, experiences, and intentions; therefore, the manner in which we wield it will inevitably differ. The Force itself is neither light nor darkness, but exists beyond the boundaries we have given to them. Light and darkness are not opposing forces to be feared, but aspects of existence that must be understood. Balance, therefore, is not the absence of darkness, nor the surrender of oneself to the light, but the ability to acknowledge both without allowing either to govern us. Love and hatred, happiness and grief, compassion and anger—all are emotions inherent to living beings. We need not detach ourselves from them in order to remain Jedi. We must neither fear our emotions nor allow them to manifest without guidance. We must feel them, understand them, and ultimately learn to guide them with balance.

"You know, Mother, they have been sharing your words all over the Temple these past couple of weeks," Serame said with a broad smile as he dropped down beside Noam.

"Our friends are asking to meet you," Noam groaned, sounding almost annoyed by the attention.

You laughed quietly and turned toward them.

They were eighteen now.

Somehow, the years had passed without you noticing them disappear. The two boys who had once run barefoot across the island were now young men—tall, broad-shouldered, muscular from years of training, and unmistakably their father's sons. Serame had kept his hair long, much like Qimir's, while Noam preferred his shorter. Both carried their own lightsabers now. Both were good students. Both had grown into capable young Jedi.

And, more than anything else, you were proud of them.

You closed the book resting in your hands and rose from your seat, making your way toward the small kitchenette. Even that had changed over the years. So had they. The boys had grown into young men with the appetite to match, and keeping enough food in the house had become a challenge of its own.

"When you become Knights, then I'll gladly discuss it with them," you said, opening one of the cupboards in search of something they could eat.

"We should be Knights by now," Noam said.

The words made you stop.

Slowly, you turned around, a frown settling across your face as you looked at him.

He sounded like you.

Not merely in the words themselves, but in the certainty behind them. The impatience. The quiet conviction that if you had already accomplished something at his age, then surely he should have been able to do the same.

You grabbed something from the cupboard and walked back toward them.