Forever in the Light
Aiden stood at the center of the Council chamber with his hands folded behind his back, spine straight out of habit more than confidence. The familiar hush pressed in around him, stone, light, and the quiet gravity of a room that had witnessed vows, judgments, forgiveness, and loss.
He could feel their attention like a weight. Not hostile. Not unkind. Simply present. Watching. Waiting.
He drew a slow breath and let it settle in his chest, steadying the tremor that wanted to rise into his throat.
"Masters," he began, voice even. "And… my friends."
The words landed more softly than he expected. He almost smiled at that, almost. Then the smile died before it could form.
"I asked for this audience because I need to speak plainly. Not as a Knight presenting a report. Not as someone looking for permission."
Aiden's gaze moved across them, faces he trusted, voices he had followed, hands that had guided him when he was younger and less sure of himself. For a moment the Force felt very still, as if even it had gone quiet to listen.
"I am resigning from the Jedi Order," he said. "And from any position of duty or authority that I hold under this Council's charge. Effective immediately."
The words did not shake. That was the only mercy the moment offered him.
"This is not anger," he continued. "And it isn't spite. It isn't disillusionment with the ideals we were taught, or the people who upheld them. I would not stand here if that were the truth. I would have left in silence."
He paused, jaw tightening once, then easing. He forced his hands to unclench behind his back.
"I am leaving because I can no longer in good conscience hold a position within this Order while something inside me is… fractured."
Aiden swallowed. Not because he was uncertain, but because saying it aloud made it real in a way meditation never had.
"For some time now," he said quietly, "I have felt something, growiong to quickly inside of my heart. Not a passing shadow. Not the ordinary strain of grief or war. Something deeper. Something that reacts when it should be still. Something that feels like it is waiting for the wrong moment to be given a reason. Something that shouldn't be there...."
He let the silence after that breathe, just long enough that they could hear what he did not say: that it hadn't been enough.
"The Jedi are meant to be a refuge," Aiden said, the words firming. "Not a risk. I will not be the thing that endangers the people we claim to protect. I will not be the blade that turns because I was too proud to admit my hand was unsteady."
He lifted his chin a fraction, as if bracing against his own heart.
"If the Force is asking me to learn something, I will learn it outside these walls. Without the weight of your symbols on my shoulders. Without the implication that my choices represent the Order."
Aiden's eyes moved again, slower now, lingering on those he'd laughed with, fought beside, bled beside.
"This decision costs me more than I can measure," he admitted. "The Temple has been my home. The Order has been my compass. Many of you have been my family in every way that matters. I carry gratitude for that, especially now."
He inhaled, then released the breath like a surrender.
"But gratitude cannot be the reason I stay when staying would be cowardice dressed as loyalty."
He lowered his hands from behind his back and let them rest at his sides, open, empty, not reaching for anything. "I am not asking to be pursued," he said. "I am not asking to be convinced. I am not asking for permission." Aiden's voice tightened at the edges, not with anger, but with the strain of restraint.
"I am asking you to understand this for what it is: not abandonment. Restraint." He took one step forward, small, respectful, deliberate, bridging the space without challenging it.
"If necessary," he said, "You can always count on my support in defending Naboo. And to that extent, the Republic. I will answer threats to our people. I will stand where I am needed. I will not turn my back on the vows that shaped me."
His throat worked once, the only crack in the armor."Even if I can no longer wear them without lying."
Aiden looked at them then, truly looked, as if committing their faces to memory the way one might commit a prayer.
"To my friends," he said, softer now, "Take care of one another. Watch for the quiet hurts. Speak when pride would have you stay silent. And if you ever find yourselves standing at the edge of a choice you do not want to make… choose the harder right. It is still choosing the light."
He exhaled, and in that breath there was both farewell and gratitude.
"Take good care, my friends," Aiden finished, voice steady again, "for the Force will be with you, always."
He bowed, deep, respectful, and final, then straightened, shoulders squared, and left the room. The board was set, and his choice was made.
