Reath loved stories. He loved histories. He loved digging through records, learning what people had thought, said, and done in ages gone by. While the other Padawans were practicing their acrobatics or dueling with lightsabers, he’d been sitting up late with his digital texts.

This made him the odd one out, most of the time. Rather than conform, Reath embraced his bookish ways. He didn’t see why anybody should think he was weird; really, it was weird of them to expect that every youngling would turn out to have the same personality. When the searchers went around looking for Force-sensitive infants, they only checked for potential ability. Not temperament, and certainly not preferences. Nobody ever asked the younglings, “Would you like to become a swashbuckling heroic Knight? Or would you rather stay at home and read?” Some people—however courageous and capable they might be—still preferred reading stories to living them, and Reath was among that number.

Until recently, Master Jora had been more than understanding. She’d always said the Order needed academics as much as it needed adventurers, and there were usually too many candidates for the latter, not enough for the former. She said she found it refreshing that Reath went against the grain. So his assignments had always included plenty of time in the Archives. Other Jedi based on Coruscant had even begun to leave open a particular carrel, with the silent understanding that it was Reath’s spot.

Then, when no one ever would have expected it, Master Jora took an assignment in the middle of nowhere.

He’d protested. Respectfully, of course—but he’d made his feelings known, not that it did any good. “It will be healthy for you to stretch,” Master Jora had said with a smile, “to test your abilities in other ways.”

But Reath had tested himself. He’d pushed himself to excel in every field, not just his favorites. Who was always near the top of the lightsaber duelist rankings, Padawan class, despite not liking dueling much at all? Reath Silas. Who had aced every single one of his exams, except that time when he’d been sick to his stomach? Also Reath. Who was the only apprentice in decades to master Gatalentan meditation practices before his twentieth year?

You’re falling prey to pride, Reath reminded himself. Too much pride in yourself is proof that such pride is unwarranted.