Chalacta looked different now.
Katarine Ryiah stood among the remains of the New Jedi Praxeum, surrounded by broken stone, scorched walls, and the lingering evidence of the Black Sun attack that had brought the school's first chapter to an abrupt end.
The inaugural class had been evacuated from the planet for their protection. Some returned to Naboo, continuing their studies at Shiraya's Sanctuary. Others went where they were needed, learning through service and doing what they could to help a galaxy that seemed increasingly determined to unravel.
The attack on Thyferra had cost the Jedi dearly. Many had died, and now the High Republic stood dangerously close to open war with the Sith. Tensions between the government and the Jedi Order continued to rise, leaving the Order searching for new places to gather, rebuild, and simply survive.
The Hidden Path remained quiet.
Smaller enclaves continued their work where they could, while the Silver Alliance offered renewed hope on Ahch-To, drawing Jedi together beneath a common purpose: resisting the growing Sith threat.
But amid all of that upheaval, something else had begun to happen.
Padawans were falling through the cracks.
There simply were not enough Jedi left to maintain the traditional Master and Padawan relationships that had guided generations before them. Young Jedi found themselves moving from enclave to enclave, battlefield to battlefield, sometimes learning from whoever happened to be available.
Katarine understood that rebuilding the New Jedi Praxeum would not solve the galaxy's problems.
It would not end the war. It would not restore those who had been lost. It would not mend every division within the Jedi.
Yet as she stood among the wreckage on Chalacta, she realized it did not have to. Maybe the Praxeum only needed to do one thing.
Give young Jedi a place to learn.
A place to grow.
A place to belong.
For now, perhaps that was enough.
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