Star Wars: The Last Qymaili | ✔

20 | The Shining City

Song: "Obi-Wan and Satine" from Star Wars: The Clone Wars OST

For a year, Ronderu kept to herself as she served the Jedi, and no more assassination attempts were made on her. But often her skin prickled as she wondered who her killer could be.

One day Arna woke her up early. "We're going to Coruscant."

"Coruscant?" she murmured, pulling the thin blanket of her mat up to her chin. "Is that where the Senate is?"

"Yes. And there are so many different species there. We'll have the grandest time. But the Order has requested my presence there to resolve a dispute. We'll board my ship."

Going to Coruscant? The most teeming planet in the galaxy? Gods, what an adventure this turned out to be.

But what could be wrong?

✺✺✺

"Your Force-signature is nervous," Arna said as they boarded the ship.

"What's a Force-signature?"

Arna chuckled. "It's a little complicated, but I'll try to explain it to you. All life forms have midi-chlorians."

"What are those?"

"Midi-chlorians are tiny life-forms that inhabit every living being. They channel the Force so that it flows through the veins of everything that has breath."

She tilted her head. "These critters are inside me," she repeated.

Arna nodded. "Certain people have more than others. The more you have, the more sensitive you are to the Force."

Is that why I'm so strange? "Who has the most?"

"Anakin Skywalker. He's still a Padawan, but he's powerful. After him is probably Grand Master Yoda."

"I must not have a ton," she said, but shuddered at having the ability to wield that much power. "Aren't there people who can reach out to feel the Force but can't wield it?"

"Why do you ask?"

A flurry of memories tore through Ronderu's head of her nightmares—a large metal creature lifting her up by the neck. "No reason."

"Are you wondering if you're Force-sensitive?" Arna asked, a hopeful tone lacing his words.

She shook her head, smiling. "I know I'm not. Kaleesh are about as dull as it gets."

"Some cultures are extremely spiritual, and that can connect them to it," Arna said. "Your nightmares could be the result of accidentally reaching out to it in your sleep. Most life-forms can feel the Force, even if they don't know how to do it consciously. Want me to teach you how?"

"Are you allowed to?" Maybe now my nightmares will be relieved....and I can tell Qymaen I'm alright.

Arna pursed his lips as soon as his name crossed her mind. "Sure. And on the off-chance that you are Force-sensitive, I might be able to convince the Council to let you be my Padawan."

She snorted. "Aren't I a little old for that?" And she didn't want a life like Arna's—that power at her fingertips, if it came without her Qymaen and her home.

"They could make an exception," he shrugged. "I'm old enough to remember when they let Anakin be a Padawan. He was nine."

"But—"

He led her back into the room. "I'm going to be silent, and I want you to listen—but with your heart, not just your ears."

Ronderu put the image of meditating at the sunrise in his head. "Like this?"