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[April Lotuka]

Lotuka's living quarters were quiet except for the soft creak of a wooden chest hinge. She knelt on the woven mat in the center of her chamber, methodically folding her garments into neat stacks. Each piece had a place, each crease pressed flat with care. A Jedi's mind reflected in their discipline, the elders always said — but tonight, April wondered if order was just her excuse to push back the thoughts that wanted to creep in.


The thought of Tor Vanta. Of the red that had burned her vision, that still haunted her when she closed her eyes.


She shook her head and reached for the next article: a deep-blue ceremonial sash, embroidered with golden threads. She ran her fingers along the pattern, letting the texture distract her. The sash had been a gift from Master Auren, given the day she was named a Galactic Knight. Tonight, she would wear it again — at the initiates' dinner ceremony.


Her reflection caught in the polished bronze plate on the wall. Blue eyes stared back at her. Just blue. She exhaled slowly.


A knock at her door.

"Lotuka?" The voice belonged to Serin Kael, another Galactic Knight. Calm, slightly amused. "You'll be late to the feast if you keep rearranging your wardrobe."

April smirked faintly and rose, smoothing the folds of her tunic. "Coming. Some of us prefer to look the part."

Serin leaned against the doorframe when she opened it. His sandy hair was tied back, his own sash draped a bit too casually across his shoulder. "It's a dinner, not an audience with the Chancellor."

"For the initiates, it is more than a dinner," April said, stepping past him into the torchlit hall. "It's their first welcome. The sect will shape their lives."

He fell into step beside her. "True. And they'll see you tonight, the model Knight, all polished and perfect."

April gave him a sidelong glance. "You sound jealous."

"Not jealous," Serin grinned. "Just glad someone cares enough to polish perfection into existence."

 

[April Lotuka]

The dining hall was alive with voices when they arrived — initiates seated in long rows, their eyes wide at the vaulted ceiling painted with starfields. Lanterns glowed gold and blue, bathing the chamber in soft warmth. Elders occupied the high table at the front, their presence commanding but serene.


April took her place among the Knights, her posture straight, her expression calm. Her sash gleamed faintly in the lanternlight, a mark of honor.


The feast began with blessings, then food and laughter. She forced herself into the rhythm, sharing words of encouragement with the younger initiates at her table. She smiled when they spoke of dreams — exploring the galaxy, mastering the Force, carrying blades of light into the stars.


But in her heart, their wide-eyed certainty gnawed at her. If they knew… if they had seen her at Tor Vanta… would they dream so openly?

Later in the evening, Master Auren rose, raising a hand for silence.


"Tonight we welcome those who have chosen the path of light in secrecy, away from the galaxy's eyes. But we also honor those who walk ahead of them. Galactic Knights." His gaze fell on April. "Those who carry the burden of our sect's legacy."


The hall applauded. Dozens of eyes turned toward her.


April bowed her head, calm and composed. But in that moment, she felt her chest tighten. A ripple of heat behind her eyes. A warning.


She clenched her fists beneath the table, breathing deeply. Not here. Not now.


The applause faded, and the hall moved on. But April sat in silence, staring into her untouched cup of wine, wondering how long she could keep her secret buried.

April lifted her cup at last, taking a slow sip. The wine was sweet, almost too much so, and she set it down quickly. Her gaze swept the hall, searching for distraction. That's when she noticed him.


Pahul Vitorbreeze .


Even seated, he was impossible to miss — tall, striking, with the composed presence of a man who had long since mastered the art of being watched. His daughters, Reylin and Zoe, sat at a nearby table, whispering between themselves and laughing at some private joke. But Pahul himself was apart, his eyes moving over the room with the ease of someone who already knew the rhythm of the evening.


And now, those eyes were on her.


April hesitated, then rose from her place. A Galactic Knight didn't linger in doubt; she crossed the hall with careful steps and bowed respectfully.


"Grandmaster," she said softly. "An honor to see you here tonight. I hadn't known you would attend the initiates' feast."

 

[Pahul Vitorbreeze]

Pahul's smile came easily, but there was weight behind it — the kind that made you wonder if it concealed more than it showed. "Ah, April Lotuka," he said, his voice smooth as polished stone. "I would not miss such an occasion. Nor the chance to see how my brightest Knights conduct themselves."

 

[April Lotuka]

Her cheeks warmed despite herself. Praise from him always carried extra gravity. "I do my best to follow the example set for me."

 

[Pahul Vitorbreeze]

He leaned slightly closer, lowering his tone so that only she could hear. "And yet, I suspect you've already begun surpassing examples, haven't you? You move differently now. Stronger. More… alive." His gaze lingered, just long enough to make her pulse quicken.

 

[April Lotuka]

April straightened, unsure whether to bow again or retreat. "My training has been… challenging. But rewarding."

 

[Pahul Vitorbreeze]

"Challenging," he repeated, and his smile curved in a way that unsettled her. "Good. Growth without strain is no growth at all. Still…" He tilted his head, studying her face with open curiosity. "There's something in your eyes tonight. A flicker. Almost like fire beneath the surface. Do you feel it too, April?"

 

[April Lotuka]

Her throat tightened. For a moment, she was certain the red had returned — that the Grandmaster was staring straight into her secret.

 

[Pahul Vitorbreeze]

But his expression softened, almost playful. "You needn't look so alarmed. I only mean that your spirit burns bright. It will carry you further than you think."

 

[April Lotuka]

She managed a small smile, though inside her heart hammered. "I… thank you, Grandmaster."

He held her gaze another beat — too long, perhaps, for mentor and student. And in that lingering smile, she sensed something layered: warmth, yes, but also a kind of testing. A measure. As though he were not simply admiring her progress, but probing the edges of her mask.

 

[Pahul Vitorbreeze]

"Enjoy the feast, April," he said finally, leaning back with practiced ease. "The galaxy will test you soon enough. Best to savor these moments of peace while they last."

 

[April Lotuka]

April bowed once more and withdrew, her thoughts churning. Strange, how easily he unsettled her. Stranger still, how she could not tell if it was his words or her own secret gnawing at her that left her so shaken.

chatter of the hall swelled as the servers began circulating with platters of roasted meats, spiced roots, and breads baked in Mandalorian fashion. The clatter of plates and the scent of fresh herbs drifted between the tables. April eased into her seat near the center of the room, but her attention never fully left the presence across from her.

Grandmaster Vitorbreeze had joined her table—whether by coincidence or design, she couldn't say. His robe sleeves were rolled just slightly as he accepted a plate, the casualness strangely at odds with the weight of his title. He looked younger in this light, less the austere Grandmaster and more the man beneath.

 

[Pahul Vitorbreeze]

"Try the roasted nerf," he said smoothly, passing the platter toward her. "The cooks say it's tender tonight."

 

[April Lotuka]

April accepted it, careful to meet his eyes only briefly. "You seem very at ease here, Grandmaster. Almost as though this is your home."

 

[Pahul Vitorbreeze]

"Ease is a weapon too, April," Pahul replied, his voice carrying under the low hum of conversation. He leaned just enough that his words would reach only her. "People lower their guard when they believe you are at rest."

 

[April Lotuka]

April gave the faintest smile, setting meat onto her plate. "And what of me? Should I lower my guard?"

 

[Pahul Vitorbreeze]

The question slipped out sharper than she intended, but Pahul's response was not reprimand—it was a smile. A knowing one. "Only if you wish to, Knight Lotuka. I would never command it." His fork tapped against his plate, casual, but his eyes—those sharp, unyielding eyes—stayed on her.

 

[April Lotuka]

She felt her pulse stir, not entirely from discomfort. "You're… different tonight," she said carefully, placing the platter down.

 

[Pahul Vitorbreeze]

"Different?" His brow arched, playful. "Perhaps the company has something to do with that. You carry yourself like a warrior, April, yet there's a shadow in your gaze. A shadow I cannot place. It makes me wonder what secrets you keep from even your teachers."

 

[April Lotuka]

Her fingers tightened slightly on the edge of her plate. The words struck far too close, though his tone was deceptively light.

"Everyone has secrets," she managed, lifting her goblet to cover her unease. "Even a Grandmaster, I would imagine."