Bell had no idea where he was, but he knew he didn’t want to die.

“Is that selfish, Master?” he asked, his voice sounding strange, his words slurred. “Have I failed?”

There was no answer but the sound of Ember barking somewhere near him. Bell smiled. Good dog. She was doing just as he asked. Giving him an anchor.

But an anchor for what? To survive? To carry on?

There was more. More noise. More chaos. Even in the silence of space. Bell could feel it, the Force burning brighter than ever, ready to consume him, ready to transform him from … what? What did the teachings say? He struggled to remember. Sitting on the cold slabs of Elphrona Outpost. Listening to the Masters. Not even a Padawan yet. Just a youngling being led into a wider world.

“Transform you the Force will, from this crude matter to the light. Become luminous you will. Become energy. The energy of all living things, from the cinderhawks in the air, yes, to the charhounds howling in the night. From the Force you came. To the Force, you’ll return.”

Is that what was happening? Was he returning to the Force? He could certainly hear them, the cinderhawks calling high above and the charhounds … a charhound barking …

Ember.

His anchor.

Good dog.

He was back in the Vector, unable to move. People were dying all around him, out in space. Friends. Enemies. People he had never known. Would never know. Because, like it or not, the flames were getting closer by the minute.

“Transform you, the Force will.”

“No …”

The word escaped his dry lips. He didn’t want to go. Not yet. He had more to give. To the Jedi. To the light. He had only just begun.

There were explosions through the flames. Screams. Anguish. Victory. The barking of a charhound. Good dog. Good dog.

But he couldn’t see anything. The flames were too bright. They were licking around him now. Purifying him. Cleansing him. Was it too late? Was this death? So many thoughts, so many memories, the past and the present crashing together as one.

Sitting on the outpost floor, listening to the visiting Master. Seeing a crystal in a cave. Feeling its warmth. Knowing it was his. Knowing it had called for him.

Loden choosing him as a Padawan. Walking into a training gallery, full of floating remotes.

Falling. Falling so far. From the Nova. From a cliff. Toward the planet. A child in his arms. So scared. So fragile. “It’s going to be all right. Going to be all right.”

Hearing that Loden hadn’t come back. Standing on Starlight, his lightsaber held high above him with the others, Indeera Stokes in Loden’s place by his side. Someone was speaking. Another Master. Another speech.