Kyle and Jan finally returned to their quarters after spending most of the day buried in the vast knowledge of the Jedi Archives. They had poured over records of the Republic's long and complicated history—information that had been lost or distorted during Palpatine's reign. Learning about the galaxy's past had been both enlightening and overwhelming.
By the time they returned to their room, they were exhausted—too drained even to eat. Their guide, Torm, and his master had been surprised when Kyle and Jan opted to skip dinner, especially since Kyle had been eager to spend more time with Qu Rahn. But Kyle knew his energy was spent, and pushing himself further wouldn't do him any favors.
Jan, equally worn out, agreed without hesitation.
"I'm done," she muttered, flopping onto the bed without bothering to remove her boots.
Kyle chuckled softly, shaking his head. "Yeah... same here."
They both managed to drag themselves to the refresher, clean up, and get ready for bed. Sleep came quickly—and deeply.
Kyle awoke to a quiet morning. For the first time in what felt like days, he felt truly rested. His body felt stronger, clearer—but not without some lingering aches. His ribs still throbbed faintly from the beating Bondara had given him the day before.
Grimacing slightly, Kyle sat on the edge of the bed and slowed his breathing. He let his eyes close, centering himself as Luke had taught him back at the Praxeum.
He reached out with the Force—not to command it, but to align himself with it. The energy swirled around him, cool and steady, washing over his body. The dull ache in his ribs faded gradually, the tightness in his muscles releasing bit by bit. His breath steadied, his heartbeat slowed, and his thoughts grew still.
The bruising wasn't gone—but it was manageable now.
"Better," Kyle murmured quietly.
Satisfied, he rose and began to get dressed.
As Kyle tugged on his shirt, he glanced toward the bed. Jan was still asleep, curled beneath the thin blanket. Her face was peaceful, her breathing slow and steady.
Kyle knew the toll the last few days had taken on her. Jan didn't have the Force to ease her exhaustion like he did, and after the mental strain of digging through countless historical records, it was no surprise that her body had finally demanded rest.
She deserves it, Kyle thought.
He quietly gathered his things, making as little noise as possible. Just as he slung his utility belt across his waist, a firm knock echoed from the door.
Kyle winced and hurried to answer before it woke Jan.
When he opened the door, Padawan Torm greeted him with a polite nod.
"Morning," Torm said. "Ready to get some breakfast?"
Kyle stepped outside, pulling the door closed behind him.
"Yes I am, and it's just me this time," Kyle said quietly. "Jan's still out cold."
Torm smirked. "Can't blame her. Yesterday was a long one."
Kyle chuckled dryly. "Yeah... and today's not looking much easier."
The two started down the hall, the Temple's morning quiet wrapping around them.
"How's the bruising?" Torm asked after a moment.
Kyle absently rubbed his ribs. "Not bad now. Gotta love the perks of the Force."
Torm grinned. "Well, Master Bondara doesn't go easy on anyone—he's been known to send a few knights limping out of the sparring chambers."
"Yeah..." Kyle muttered, half-smiling. "I believe it."
The cafeteria was buzzing with life when they arrived—Jedi of all ranks filling the room with conversation and movement. Kyle scanned the crowd, recognizing a handful of faces from the Archives the day before. A few nodded in greeting as he passed. Others, mostly younger students, whispered quietly, pointing in Kyle's direction.
Great... word's spreading, Kyle thought.
A few Padawans approached their table, polite but persistent.
"Master Katarn," one of them said eagerly. "Would you consider sparring with us later?"
Kyle paused, fork halfway to his mouth. Before he could respond, Torm cut in.
"Absolutely not," Torm said firmly, fixing the younger Jedi with a stern look. "He's in the middle of his trials. Let the man eat in peace."
The younger Padawans murmured apologies, but a few still lingered—clearly hoping Kyle would reconsider.
Kyle sighed. "Look... if you really want a spar, clear it with your instructors first. If they say yes... well, I'll think about it."
That seemed to satisfy them, and they scurried away, murmuring excitedly.
Torm shook his head. "You know they'll ask, right?"
Kyle smiled wryly. "Yeah... but maybe their teachers will talk them out of it."
Torm chuckled. "You've got more faith in their instructors than I do."
After breakfast, Torm led Kyle through the corridors toward the Archives.
"This will be your next trial," Torm explained. "The Trial of Knowledge."
Kyle exhaled slowly. He was a man of action, but learning to trust his mind—and the Force—had become a vital part of his growth.
When they entered the Archives, they were met by Master Jocasta Nu, the Temple's Chief Archivist.
Her expression was calm but expectant, her sharp gaze studying Kyle like a book waiting to be read.
"Initiate Katarn," she said, her voice crisp yet polite. "I will be overseeing your next trial. This will test not only your understanding of knowledge... but your ability to apply it."
Kyle nodded respectfully. "I understand."
Jocasta's eyes narrowed. "Good... then let's begin."
The questions came quickly—some direct, others layered in deeper meaning. Historical facts, galactic politics, and even Jedi philosophy were all brought to the table. Kyle answered where he could, leaning on his research from the previous day and the knowledge Luke had passed down.
When Master Nu's questions drifted into territory Kyle wasn't familiar with, he closed his eyes, centering himself in the Force. It wasn't about memorizing dates or names—it was about feeling the intent behind the questions and allowing the Force to guide him to the right answer.
Some answers came easily; others he struggled to piece together. When Kyle felt uncertain, he admitted it openly—earning a brief but approving nod from Jocasta.
Finally, the last question came.
"The Jedi Code," Jocasta said firmly. "What does it mean to you?"
Kyle's mind froze. He knew about the Code in passing, but Luke's Order hadn't emphasized it like the Jedi of this time. There had been no mantra drilled into them, no rigid philosophy repeated over and over.
Kyle paused, choosing his words carefully.
"I don't know the Code the way your Order does," Kyle admitted. "But... if I had to say what being a Jedi means to me?"
He exhaled slowly. "It's about doing what's right. About being willing to stand between those who can't defend themselves... and those who would harm them. Even if it costs you."
Master Nu's gaze softened. "Even if it costs you?"
Kyle met her eyes. "Especially if it costs you."
For a moment, Jocasta Nu said nothing. Then, at last, she nodded.
"That will be all, Initiate Katarn," she said.
Kyle knew better than to ask if he'd passed. He'd done what he could—and now, he'd have to wait.
The Trial of Knowledge was over.