She was sixteen.
Not a Knight.
Not even a full Padawan yet.
Just talented enough that the Council allowed her to accompany a routine mediation on Relis IV, a mineral moon with labor riots and faulty reactors. Simple. Educational. Controlled.
They paired her with Master Halren Vos, a healer-savant who believed calm could be taught by proximity.
He was wrong.
The explosion wasn't dramatic at first.
Just a pressure failure. A reactor chamber tearing itself open with a sound like metal sighing. Heat bled into the tunnels. People screamed. Panic spread faster than flame.
Aurelia felt it before she saw it.
The Force didn't rush her.
It fell into her.
Like a ceiling giving way.
Her breath hitched. Her vision sharpened painfully. She tasted copper.
"Padawan Veyr," Halren said, already reaching for her through the Force. "Ground yourself. Now."
She tried.
She truly did.
But fear nearby was loud. Fifty miners trapped. Children. A mother pinned beneath a girder. The Force did not ask her what she wanted to do.
It simply arrived.
She raised her hands instinctively.
The tunnel froze.
Not metaphorically.
Heat stopped moving. Fire hung in the air like cloth caught on a nail. Molten slag crystallized mid-drip. Sound collapsed inward until there was only a pressure whine behind her eyes.
The miners stared.
So did Master Vos.
Aurelia screamed.
Light tore through her veins, visible beneath her skin in branching gold fissures. Blood leaked from her nose, glowing faintly before splashing onto the floor and hissing.
The Force was not flowing through her.
It was overloading her.
She dropped to her knees.
The tunnel walls bowed inward.
Master Vos tried to sever her connection.
It backfired.
The sudden absence of guidance caused the energy inside her to surge violently outward. A shockwave ripped through the chamber, flattening droids, snapping durasteel like bone, and flinging Jedi across the tunnel.
Aurelia was at the epicenter.
Suspended.
Crying without sound.
Her blood floated in the air around her, each droplet glowing like a dying star.
She did not look angry.
She looked terrified.
Three Masters arrived in-force moments later.
What they felt stopped them cold.
Not darkness.
Not light.
Pressure.
Like standing too close to a sun that hadn't decided whether to rise or explode.
Master Talaris whispered, involuntarily,
"She's bleeding the Force."
Aurelia's eyes snapped toward him.
Green fractured with gold.
For half a second, every Master present felt her notice them.
Then she collapsed.
The suspended energy had nowhere to go.
It imploded.
Aurelia survived.
Barely.
Her body was burned from the inside out. Capillaries ruptured. Nervous system scorched. Her heart had stopped twice before stabilization.
In the medical ward, even unconscious, Force sensors spiked erratically.
She had to be sedated with anti-Force dampeners.
Something no Padawan had ever required.
No formal accusation was made.
No punishment issued.
But behind closed doors, the words were spoken.
"She is not channeling the Force correctly."
"She has no governor."
"She is a fault line."
One Master suggested release from the Order.
Another suggested isolation.
A third said nothing at all and simply stared at the medical readings, pale.
Because the data was clear.
Aurelia Veyr did not grow stronger with training.
She grew more unstable.
When she finally woke, hoarse and shaking, she asked only one thing:
"Did I save them?"
No mention of pain.
No memory of the collapse.
No fear of what she'd done.
Just that.
That was when the Council truly understood.
She was not dangerous because she might fall to darkness.
She was dangerous because the Light itself hurt her.
And one day, she would realize that the Dark Side did not.
Not a Knight.
Not even a full Padawan yet.
Just talented enough that the Council allowed her to accompany a routine mediation on Relis IV, a mineral moon with labor riots and faulty reactors. Simple. Educational. Controlled.
They paired her with Master Halren Vos, a healer-savant who believed calm could be taught by proximity.
He was wrong.
The Spark
The explosion wasn't dramatic at first.
Just a pressure failure. A reactor chamber tearing itself open with a sound like metal sighing. Heat bled into the tunnels. People screamed. Panic spread faster than flame.
Aurelia felt it before she saw it.
The Force didn't rush her.
It fell into her.
Like a ceiling giving way.
Her breath hitched. Her vision sharpened painfully. She tasted copper.
"Padawan Veyr," Halren said, already reaching for her through the Force. "Ground yourself. Now."
She tried.
She truly did.
But fear nearby was loud. Fifty miners trapped. Children. A mother pinned beneath a girder. The Force did not ask her what she wanted to do.
It simply arrived.
The Break
She raised her hands instinctively.
The tunnel froze.
Not metaphorically.
Heat stopped moving. Fire hung in the air like cloth caught on a nail. Molten slag crystallized mid-drip. Sound collapsed inward until there was only a pressure whine behind her eyes.
The miners stared.
So did Master Vos.
Aurelia screamed.
Light tore through her veins, visible beneath her skin in branching gold fissures. Blood leaked from her nose, glowing faintly before splashing onto the floor and hissing.
The Force was not flowing through her.
It was overloading her.
She dropped to her knees.
The tunnel walls bowed inward.
The Catastrophe
Master Vos tried to sever her connection.
It backfired.
The sudden absence of guidance caused the energy inside her to surge violently outward. A shockwave ripped through the chamber, flattening droids, snapping durasteel like bone, and flinging Jedi across the tunnel.
Aurelia was at the epicenter.
Suspended.
Crying without sound.
Her blood floated in the air around her, each droplet glowing like a dying star.
She did not look angry.
She looked terrified.
The Council Arrives
Three Masters arrived in-force moments later.
What they felt stopped them cold.
Not darkness.
Not light.
Pressure.
Like standing too close to a sun that hadn't decided whether to rise or explode.
Master Talaris whispered, involuntarily,
"She's bleeding the Force."
Aurelia's eyes snapped toward him.
Green fractured with gold.
For half a second, every Master present felt her notice them.
Then she collapsed.
The suspended energy had nowhere to go.
It imploded.
The Aftermath
- Twelve miners saved
- Two Jedi permanently injured
- One healer unconscious for six days
- One section of Relis IV declared unstable and sealed indefinitely
Aurelia survived.
Barely.
Her body was burned from the inside out. Capillaries ruptured. Nervous system scorched. Her heart had stopped twice before stabilization.
In the medical ward, even unconscious, Force sensors spiked erratically.
She had to be sedated with anti-Force dampeners.
Something no Padawan had ever required.
The Council's Private Verdict
No formal accusation was made.
No punishment issued.
But behind closed doors, the words were spoken.
"She is not channeling the Force correctly."
"She has no governor."
"She is a fault line."
One Master suggested release from the Order.
Another suggested isolation.
A third said nothing at all and simply stared at the medical readings, pale.
Because the data was clear.
Aurelia Veyr did not grow stronger with training.
She grew more unstable.
The Line That Haunted Them
When she finally woke, hoarse and shaking, she asked only one thing:
"Did I save them?"
No mention of pain.
No memory of the collapse.
No fear of what she'd done.
Just that.
That was when the Council truly understood.
She was not dangerous because she might fall to darkness.
She was dangerous because the Light itself hurt her.
And one day, she would realize that the Dark Side did not.
Pt.2 (The Aurelia Event)
The First Incident
Later archived as: The Aurelia Event
Classification changed twice before sealing.
She was fourteen.
Assigned to Jedi Healing Hall Theta, Coruscant.
No combat. No fieldwork. Just observation and empathy exercises. The safest place the Order had.
That was the mistake.
The Patient
They brought in a Knight pulled from a border skirmish. Alive. Stable. His injuries were internal. Force trauma. The kind healers treated every day.
Aurelia was instructed only to observe.
"Do not reach," the healer told her gently.
"Do not connect. Just feel the rhythm of the room."
She nodded. Hands folded. Perfect posture. Red hair braided neatly down her back.
She felt the Knight's pain anyway.
Not as sensation.
As gravity.
The Contact
The Knight screamed.
Not aloud.
In the Force.
The sound punched through Aurelia's chest like a hammer through glass.
She gasped. One hand lifted instinctively, fingers curling as if to catch something falling.
The healer turned sharply.
"Padawan, don't—"
Too late.
The Force surged into Aurelia like blood rushing into a severed limb.
Her pupils dilated.
The lights dimmed.
Medical instruments began to hum, then whine, then overload.
The Wrong Kind of Healing
Aurelia did what she had been taught.
She pulled the trauma out of the Knight.
All of it.
Pain. Fear. Neural scarring. Residual rage. Every unprocessed echo of violence.
It didn't disperse.
It went into her.
Her veins lit up under her skin, pale gold, branching rapidly. Her breath stuttered. Blood seeped from her tear ducts, glowing faintly as it ran.
The Knight went still.
Monitors flatlined.
For half a second, everyone thought she had killed him.
Then he inhaled.
Clean.
Unscarred.
Completely healed.
The Overload
Aurelia staggered backward.
"No," she whispered. "It's too much."
The healer reached for her.
The Force exploded outward.
Not violently.
Selectively.
Every being in the room was shoved to their knees by pressure alone. Droids crumpled. Walls cracked in spiderweb fractures.
Aurelia screamed as the stolen trauma tried to escape her body all at once.
She wasn't bleeding pain.
She was bleeding experience.
Memories not hers flashed through the room like heat mirages. Battle. Fire. Screams. Death.
Several healers vomited.
One fainted.
The Knight began sobbing, overwhelmed by sudden clarity of what he had been freed from.
The Council Feels It
Masters across the Temple turned their heads simultaneously.
Not sensing darkness.
Not sensing light.
Sensing a disturbance with weight.
Three Council members arrived within moments.
They stopped at the threshold.
Aurelia hovered inches off the ground, back arched, hair lifting as if underwater. Her eyes were open but unfocused. Green threaded with gold.
The Force around her had nowhere to go.
She was full.
Master Yedrin spoke quietly.
"She's acting as a reservoir."
Another whispered, voice tight,
"No. Reservoirs have limits."
Aurelia's voice broke through the pressure, small and terrified.
"Please take it back."
The Collapse
They tried.
They reached for her through the Force.
What they touched was not a conduit.
It was a fault line.
The moment they applied pressure, Aurelia's body convulsed. Light burst from her skin in blinding flashes. She collapsed mid-air, hitting the floor hard enough to crack stone.
The stored trauma discharged violently.
Every Force-sensitive in the hall felt it burn through them like ice.
Aurelia went into cardiac arrest.
Twice.
Aftermath
- The Knight survived, fully healed
- Four healers required mind-recovery therapy
- One Master was temporarily severed from the Force for weeks
- Aurelia remained unconscious for nine days
When she woke, she was restrained.
Not physically.
Force dampeners ringed the bed.
She noticed immediately.
Her voice was calm when she asked,
"Am I sick?"
No one answered.
The Council's Realization
In private session, the conclusion was unanimous and unspoken before it was spoken aloud.
She does not heal like a Jedi.
She does not channel like a Jedi.
She absorbs.
One Master said quietly,
"If she ever stops giving the pain back…"
Another finished the thought.
"…there will be nothing left of her."
They did not expel her.
They did something worse.
They began designing ways to manage her.
The Sentence That Changed Everything
Recorded in a sealed addendum, written by a senior healer:
And for the first time, the Council understood:
She was not a student.
She was a containment problem.
