The dream came without warning.
Aaron floated in darkness. No stars. No sound. Just cold.
Then fire.
Blaster fire.
Children screaming. Lightsabers falling. The roar of boots on marble floors. He saw the Temple gates smashed open. Clones flooding in. Jedi Masters ambushed mid-meditation. Anakin Skywalker—no, Darth Vader—his eyes glowing gold, his saber flashing red as he cut down everything in his path.
Including children.
Aaron jolted awake, sweat soaking through his robes. His heart hammered in his chest, his breath caught somewhere between terror and fury.
It wasn't a dream.
It was a vision.
The Force didn't whisper—it screamed.
Six months, maybe less. I can't just train. I have to act.
—
Two days later, he stood in front of the High Council chamber.
It had taken every ounce of caution, manipulation, and some well-placed moments of exaggerated "spiritual insight" to even be granted an audience. But he'd managed it. Jedi didn't ignore children with powerful connections to the Force. Not entirely.
Still, he trembled as the doors opened.
The Council chamber was exactly as he remembered it from holovids and dreams—tall windows, circular seats, the light of Coruscant casting long shadows across the floor.
Most of the Masters weren't present. But one was.
Mace Windu.
He stood at the window with his hands folded behind his back, dark robes perfectly pressed, gaze sharp as a lightsaber.
"The child with visions," he said without turning. "You asked for me by name."
Aaron swallowed. "Yes, Master Windu."
"Speak. But briefly."
Aaron stepped forward, every muscle in his small frame tense.
"There's danger coming. From within. The war will end, but not how you expect. The clones... They're not what they seem. And Anakin Skywalker—he's not the Chosen One. He's—"
Windu turned, his face unreadable.
"Dangerous talk. Based on what, youngling?"
"A vision. I felt it. I saw it."
"The Force often shows us fragments. Metaphor. Fear. Possibility. Not certainty."
Aaron's fists clenched. "This was no metaphor."
Windu studied him. For a long time. Then slowly shook his head.
"You are gifted. Strong. But also young. The Jedi Order has faced threats for a thousand years. We are not so easily undone."
Aaron's voice cracked. "You're wrong."
Silence.
"That will be all," Windu said. "Return to your training."
Aaron stared at him, a thousand warnings dying on his tongue. He bowed stiffly, turned, and walked out.
The doors shut behind him with finality.
Back in the Initiates' dorm, he sat alone, staring at the ceiling.
They won't listen. They think they're invincible. Even Windu. Especially Windu.
That's when he made the decision.
If I can't save them... I'll save what matters.
The knowledge. The wisdom. The future.
He began planning his escape.
Not immediately. Not recklessly. He would wait for the chaos. For Order 66. He'd use the distraction to get to the Archives. Steal holocrons—philosophy, saber techniques, healing, ancient Force arts. Whatever he could carry.
And he wouldn't go alone.
—
The next week, he started watching.
Among the other younglings, most were sweet but oblivious. Trusting. Blind. But one stood out.
Nira—the quiet Mirialan girl. She watched, like him. She listened. And more importantly, she believed in the Force like it was alive. Not just a tool.
One night, during evening meditation, he whispered to her.
"You ever see things before they happen?"
She nodded slowly.
"Dreams. Warnings. Master Pura says they're just illusions, but... they feel real."
Aaron leaned in.
"They're not illusions. I've seen what's coming. The Temple... isn't safe."
She didn't laugh. Didn't argue.
She just said, "Tell me everything."
And he did.
Over the next few nights, Aaron told her everything he could. Not about Earth or reincarnation—just the vision. The betrayal.
The clones. The slaughter. At first, she was skeptical. But then the signs started to show.
The fear in the Masters' eyes during Council briefings. The tension in the air when clone officers visited the Temple.
Eventually, she stopped doubting.
"If you're leaving," she said one night, "I'm coming with you."
Aaron smiled. "Good. We'll need each other."
They began practicing together. Secretly.
Quietly.
He trained her using his own accelerated skillset. Passed on the saber drills he mastered at night. Meditation techniques.
Breathing control. Escape tactics.
And he started mapping the Temple.
Studying patrol routes. Guard rotations. Archive access. Emergency hangars.
Every day, he walked among legends.
Every night, he prepared to leave them behind.
The storm was coming.
And he would not die with the Jedi.