At the base of the grand staircase, a lone figure stood, small against the marble expanse. Ivory Vayera. Her new hands—smooth, unmarked by blaster callouses or lightsaber burns—clutched the fabric of a simple tunic. The silky black hair that fell perfectly around her face felt like a stranger’s disguise. Inside, her heart was a drumbeat of remembered fire and the cold vacuum of space.

The main entrance was guarded by two Temple Guards, their featureless masks and yellow-bladed lightsaber pikes held in silent vigilance. To their right, a smaller, less ornate archway stood open, leading into a bustling antechamber. Younglings in robes darted under the watchful eyes of a Jedi Knight, while a protocol droid patiently directed a nervous-looking Twi’lek senator’s aide.

From within the shaded archway, a figure emerged. He was human, clad in Jedi robes, with a neatly trimmed beard and an expression of mild, perpetual exasperation. His eyes, however, were sharp and kind.