Private The Weight of Light

[Lorn Reingard]

​

Dust drifted through one of the vaulted chambers in the Naboo Sanctuary, catching the sunbeams like lazy spirits. The stone floor bore the familiar scuff marks of practice, years of discipline etched into its surface. Lorn stood at the edge of the mat, sleeves rolled to the elbow, his dark hair pulled back in a simple tie. He looked every bit the warrior-turned-instructor.

Before him, a dozen students moved in unison, sweat-slicked and focused. The rhythm of their movements was a language Lorn knew by heart: pivot, deflect, strike, withdraw. The forms were ancient, sacred, yet even sacred rituals could grow dull in repetition.

His gaze drifted to the edge of the room, where one figure broke the pattern. Not by defiance, but simply by absence. Ensy was lighter than the others, motionless, quiet. He wasn't disrespectful; he was just disconnected, as if the boy had wandered into the wrong galaxy entirely.

Lorn frowned. "Again," he called out, his voice crisp. The students snapped into motion, driven by his command. All but one. Ensy stood still, watching the others with wide, distracted eyes, like someone trying to memorize a dream while it faded.

When the lesson ended, students filed out, chattering and toweling off their foreheads. Lorn stood silent at the far end, waiting. As the last footsteps faded, he called out, "Ensy." His voice wasn't unkind, but it wasn't soft, either. "Stay a moment."

"You didn't move once during the final sequence," he observed, "not even to breathe, near as I could tell."

"I'm guessing there's a reason for that," Lorn said, not pressing, but watching intently. He turned slightly, motioning toward the archway that led to the gardens. "Walk with me. You don't have to explain everything, but if you're going to stand on my floor, I want to know what kind of soul I'm trusting to be there." A faint, unreadable smile touched his lips.

Ensy​

 

[Ensy]

☽ Ensy ☾


At first, he said nothing, simply walking when Lorn beckoned. He clutched his satchel to his chest like armor. Not afraid. Just… feeling small. "I wasn't trying to disobey," he said softly. "The steps… they're beautiful. But they're made to send things away. I don't like sending things away." It was a way of describing it to someone who had never had it explained well to them. A soft sadness in the tone of his words. Laced with years of seeing things that he should not have for his age.

His lilac eyes looked near to his teachers face but his eyes never fully caught his. They were timid. Taught to not stare directly back at a superior. Instead he looked towards the garden area. This was where he liked to be much more than in the sanctuary training.

He shifted his weight, fingers curling tighter around the worn strap of his satchel. "I'm not like the others," Ensy said quietly. "I want to learn, but I'm scared. I don't want to hurt anyone. When I do, I feel that hurt also and it never leaves." He swallowed, then looked down at the ground between them. "I am trying, I'm sorry."Ensy's breath hitched slightly, the weight of his own words settling around him. He paused, then added with a flicker of hope, "Maybe… maybe there is a better way for me to help than in saber practice?"

His fingers loosened on the satchel, then tightened again, a small sign of the fight inside him between fear and determination. For the first time since leaving the sanctuary a small smile crossing his face.

 

[Lorn Reingard]

​

Lorn didn't speak immediately. He watched the boy walk beside him, tightly gripping his satchel as if it were the only thing keeping him grounded. It was always the same with these young arrivals: they carried visible pain instead of youthful pride, looking like scarred survivors more than eager students.

They reached the open-air corridor, which overlooked the vibrant gardens. Beyond, Naboo's elegant spires rose from the earth like ancient bones, illuminated by the soft afternoon light. The air was heavy with the scent of pollen and warm stone, feeling grounded and safe.

Lorn sighed, a heavy sound that knew the exact burden too great to ask anyone to bear. "I understand," he finally said. "More than I probably should."

He leaned on the railing, hands resting on the cold stone. His voice grew quieter, losing its usual instructor's cadence. "Do you think I ever want to hurt anyone?" he asked. "I don't," he continued. "I never have. But wanting peace doesn't mean we always get to live inside it."

He glanced sideways at Ensy, his eyes darker now, but not harsh. "The galaxy isn't a safe place, Ensy. You probably know that better than most. There are people out there who will hurt others, not because they're lost or scared, but simply because they can."

"When that time comes," Lorn added, "I need to know you won't just stand by while someone else is hurting."

He pushed off the railing, moving to sit on the wide ledge overlooking the sweeping hills beyond the city. It was a slow, almost reluctant invitation for the boy to join him.

"You don't need to be a warrior," he said. "But you do need to be able to stand when it truly counts. To protect yourself, to protect someone else, even if it's just long enough to escape."

He let the words settle, giving Ensy time to absorb them before continuing. "Did your Master ever explain this to you?" he asked gently, turning his gaze back toward the horizon. "What training is really for? That it's not about hurting others, but about not having to?"
There was no judgment in the question, only the quiet weariness of a man who had learned that answer the hardest way possible.

Ensy​

 

[Ensy]

☽ Ensy ☾

He listened. He understood. Following his teacher he came to overlook the hills beyond. But when he finally spoke, it was with a calm, steady voice. Not defiant. Just clear.

"I won't stand by. I promise," he repeated.

Then, more slowly, "But if I raise a blade… if I hurt someone… I feel it."

His fingers unfurled from his tight grip on the satchel, small and careful, as if trying to show something invisible there. "I feel them. I see the faces they miss. The pain they never say out loud. The good in them that got buried under fear or orders. It's like their hurt becomes mine. And it stays." Tears almost came to Ensy's eyes. "I see it all no matter what I do."

Looking forward toward the hills again, shoulders rising with a breath he was able to shut away the tears as if he had practice.

"I know the galaxy's dangerous. I know there are people who won't stop unless someone makes them." A pause. "But if I do that the same way they do, I start losing the part of me that make me.. well me. Like how I like to paint!" Reaching his now open hands down he undid the latch on his satchel ever slightly, if not slightly embarrassed he made a point to show that his painting supplies were in there. "That's why the imperials want me. I can see what others have felt. I can feel what they feel."

He looked up at Lorn finally glancing directly at him despite all the triggers in his brain telling him not to. "I still want to learn," he said. "But I need to learn how to protect without having to take on everyone's pain... it is to much to bare. There has to be a way to do that."

A moment of hesitation passed, then he added, almost shyly:
"I think… the Force gave me these feelings for a reason. I just haven't figured out why yet."

Ensy was a young person. There was the want to live, to enjoy life. Yet, his dreams and memories were filled with nothing but pain. There in the training center of Naboo he stands in defiance of the galaxy. Wanting to make it beautiful, to make it happy, and grow. As he teeters on the edge of breaking fully, his youthfulness keeps him grounded and going. A beacon of hope.

Lorn Reingard

 

[Lorn Reingard]

​

Lorn watched Ensy speak. He listened without interruption, only a subtle shift in his posture betraying the weight of the boy's words. He didn't nod or rush in with comfort, knowing that wasn't what Ensy needed.

When Ensy finally looked up and met his gaze, Lorn felt something twist in his chest. It wasn't the sharp pain of guilt or regret; those were old, familiar things. Instead, this was something quieter: the rare ache of recognizing a soul that had seen far too much, far too young, yet was still trying to build something out of it.

He looked down at the satchel, at the paints nestled inside like fragile truths.

"I think the Force did give you that gift for a reason," he said at last, his voice low and steady. "It gave you something I've seen a hundred Jedi lose, something I nearly lost myself: empathy."

He took a slow breath, rubbing the back of his neck as he exhaled. "You don't need to become like them to protect others. You don't even need to fight like I do. But you do need to know how to stand your ground when it matters, not just for others, but for yourself. And learning how to do that without being overwhelmed?" He gave a faint, sad smile. "That's the real training, the one they don't put in the holocrons."

Then, his brow furrowed slightly, and the weight of something darker crept into his voice.

"You said the Imperials want you." He looked over, calm but serious now. "What kind of Imperials? Remnant, cultist cell, or something worse? And what exactly do they think you are?"

A breeze stirred the folds of his tunic as he waited. He wasn't pressing, but he wasn't letting it slide either.

"We're not just training warriors here, Ensy. We're keeping people safe. And that includes you. So if someone's still hunting you, I need to know what we're dealing with."

Ensy​

 

[Ensy]

☽ Ensy ☾

Ensy's fingers fidgeted against the worn strap of his satchel. He didn't answer right away. His breathing was steady, but his gaze had gone somewhere far away. When he finally moved, it was slow and careful. He shifted closer to Lorn on the ledge and, after a hesitant pause, reached out. His small hand wrapped around Lorn's. "Here," he murmured, eyes closing. "It's easier to show you."

The Force stirred between them, not like a shove or a flare, more like the slow unfolding of a door that had been locked. And then the visions began.

First a man appeared. His uniform was Imperial, but worn without the crispness of parade ground. His eyes were sharp and calculating. Ensy stood in a corridor when the man's hand gripped his arm and in that touch, their minds crossed. Flashes of the man's life bled into Ensy: blaster smoke, coded transmissions, the cold satisfaction of breaking an enemy. The look on his face was clear. The man saw it all as well.

Then the memories shifted, the man dragging Ensy through the gates of a holding camp. Rows of prisoners in chains. Ensy was smaller here, younger. The man would bring him to a cell, force his hand against another prisoner's skin, and pull the secrets out. Names. Locations. When the prisoners resisted, the man's people made them scream or they were sent away.

The vision shifted again. The night of escape. The rain on cold metal as Ensy slipped through a half-sealed service hatch. His breath burning in his lungs. Blaster fire snapping past his head. And then stars. The raw, dizzying silence of space as he hid in a freight container bound for somewhere, anywhere else.

Through the link, Lorn should be able to feel it too, the helplessness, the bone-deep fear, the shame.

Ensy's fingers tightened slightly around Lorn's, and the visions shifted one last time.

Through Ensy's gift, he felt Lorn. Felt the layers of guarded strength, the patient weight of a good person. And underneath, love, a woman. Beautiful, with brown curls catching the light. She was the fury of a storm and the serenity of a calm sea all at once. Lorn loved her, deeply and without hesitation. Ensy felt the love of it in the moment their lips met.

And then, abruptly, the vision stopped. Ensy's hand slipped back into his lap, his cheeks faintly flushed.

"I didn't mean to see that," he said quietly. "I only meant to share about myself but I got scared and wanted to see if you would think me a freak like they did..."

He looked up to Lorn, a shaking smile forming on his lips.

"People like you, teacher, make this place feel real. I do want to help but whenever I get to close to someone, I can feel their happiness, love!... and their pain. Some people have so much that when I feel it to, it hurts me a lot."

Lorn Reingard

 

[Lorn Reingard]

​

Lorn didn't pull his hand away. Even as sharp, uninvited, heavy visions flooded him, he kept still. Years of battle had taught him how to brace for a blow, but this wasn't a hit he could block; it was the kind that seeped in, leaving no armor untouched. He saw the Imperial officer's face, felt the cold corridors, and the crushing weight of being used like a tool. Shame and fear washed over him. Then, just as abruptly, his own uninvited memories played back: a kiss, warmth, and the ache that followed. By the time Ensy let go, Lorn's breath was slow and deliberate, the only sign he'd been rattled at all.

He looked at the boy for a long moment, simply seeing him. "You're not a freak, Ensy," he said quietly. "And anyone who told you that doesn't understand what they were looking at."

His gaze softened, the hard edges of a soldier giving way to the man beneath. "That's a rare kind of gift you have. It's harder to live with than most, I'd wager, but also incredibly rare. And more dangerous too, because the wrong people will always want to use it. Like him." He nodded towards the memory of the Imperial.

Lorn shifted on the ledge, leaning forward on his knees. "I can't make the pain disappear or stop you from feeling it. But I can help you find a way to carry it without letting it break you. That much, I can promise." He paused, his voice softening further. "You've already survived more than most adults I've fought beside. That tells me you're stronger than you think."

For a moment, he looked out over the Naboo hills, the light catching on the water far below. "And for the record, feeling someone's love isn't something you should be ashamed of either. That was my love. You didn't take it; you simply found it."

He turned back to Ensy with the faintest trace of a wry smile. "So, stay close. Keep training. We'll figure out how you can protect yourself without losing yourself in the process. Deal?" He held out his hand again, offering it rather than commanding.

Ensy​