The transport shuttle hums beneath your feet as it begins its descent through swirling clouds of white. Through the viewport, Ilum grows larger—a jagged scar of ice and stone against the black of space. A world that has stood silent for millennia, waiting.

Around you, the other Initiates shift nervously. Some of them you recognize from the Temple—faces you've seen in the refectory, in Master Yoda's classes, in the training salles. Vos, the tall girl from the Kashi monarchy, is whispering a meditation mantra under her breath. Crys, who once tripped over his own robe during a sparring match, is checking his belt for the tenth time.

At the front of the shuttle, Master Jocasta Nu stands with her hands clasped inside her sleeves. Her white hair is pulled back tightly, and her eyes—sharp and ancient—move across the group of younglings with quiet assessment.