The corridor stank of scorched stone and plasma.
Eli ran. His legs burned, lungs tight. Alarms screamed above, but the panic inside him was louder.
He reached the dormitory level just as clone blasters lit the far hall red. He didn't hesitate — burst through the doors and shouted:
"Get up — now!"
Tavi jerked awake. Niyala rolled off her bunk, blinking groggily. "What's—"
"They're here! The clones—they're attacking us! We have to move!"
Screams echoed from the training wing. Another explosion rocked the Temple, sending dust raining from the ceiling. No more time.
He tossed a training saber to Tavi, dragged Niyala up by the arm. "We go now. Head down corridor J-17. There's a secondary hangar with old transport pods. We make for those."
"But that's—" Tavi hesitated.
Eli cut him off. "Trust me. I've done this before."
---
They spilled into the hall as two more younglings joined — a Rodian named Lelu and a quiet human boy from the archives wing. Eli didn't know their names in his first life.
He did now.
Blaster fire snapped at their heels as they sprinted past statues and into the service corridor.
Down the far end, clone troopers advanced in formation, helmets impassive, rifles raised.
"Fall back!" Eli yelled.
But it was too late.
Then — a flash of green.
A roar of energy.
And Cin Drallig dropped from the upper level like a thunderbolt.
He landed in front of the clones with both sabers drawn. A wall of wind and light. In two strokes he sent three troopers crashing into the walls — limbs twitching, blasters clattering to the floor.
He didn't speak. Just turned, met Eli's eyes, and nodded once.
The younglings followed.
---
In the chamber outside the hangar, a makeshift group had formed: a few Padawans, a Knight with a blaster wound, and a trio of temple guards stripped of their full armor. It wasn't much — but it was more than Eli had ever seen survive this far.
Niyala crouched beside him, gripping her saber hilt tightly. "We're really doing this…"
"Yeah," Eli breathed. "We are."
Drallig addressed the group, calm but fierce.
"We're outnumbered. But we know these halls better than they do. Stay mobile. Strike fast. Protect the younglings. We can still save lives."
Eli stepped up beside him.
"I've seen them take the Council Chambers from the rear lifts. That's where they're heading now."
Drallig looked at him sharply. "And how do you know that?"
"I just do."
The Master held his gaze, then — remarkably — nodded.
"Then we meet them halfway."
---
They launched the ambush in the upper rotunda. Clone patrols swept the halls in squads of five — but weren't prepared for hit-and-run Jedi tactics.
Eli took out his first clone with a reverse strike he'd only just mastered two loops ago.
Blaster bolts scorched past him. He rolled, ducked, sliced.
Tavi and Niyala fought beside him like they'd done it before — because they had. He'd taught them now. He'd trained them.
This was working.
For the first time, it was working.
---
Until it wasn't.
In the main hall, Drallig froze mid-swing.
His head turned. His eyes went cold.
Eli followed his gaze.
The tall silhouette approaching down the central stairs wasn't a clone.
He walked alone.
Dark cloak. Hood drawn. Saber unlit.
But Eli recognized the weight in the air.
Like gravity bending around a dying star.
Anakin Skywalker.
"Fall back," Drallig ordered.
"No," Eli breathed. "That's him."
He gripped his saber tighter. His knuckles turned white.
"I saw him in the vision. He's the one who—"
Snap-hiss.
The blue blade ignited.
Drallig stepped forward.
"Skywalker," he said, voice unreadable. "What are you doing?"
Anakin said nothing.
Only advanced.
"Anakin," another voice called from behind.
Shaak Ti.
She emerged from the meditation hall, robes scorched, panting, saber drawn. "Stand down, Skywalker. Whatever you're doing—this isn't the way."
Anakin finally looked up.
And smiled.
"Too late."
---
The fight was chaos.
Shaak Ti lunged, her strikes elegant but fierce. Drallig joined her — and for a moment, it looked like they might hold.
Eli watched in horror and awe as blue and green clashed with blue — blinding, beautiful, deadly.
Then Shaak Ti faltered. One misstep.
A downward stroke.
Too slow.
Anakin's blade pierced her gut.
She gasped. Mouth opened — and closed. Her saber fell. She collapsed into Drallig's arms.
Eli felt the heat drain from his body.
"No…"
Drallig didn't cry out.
He only roared, rose, and charged.
---
"Run!" Eli shouted, pushing the others toward the hangar.
"I can help!" Niyala said, stepping forward.
"No!" he grabbed her arm. "Go!"
They fled.
Behind him, he heard the clash of sabers. The scream of someone — Drallig? A clone? He didn't know.
They reached the hangar. The doors opened. For the first time in any loop, they made it to the escape pods.
Eli shoved Niyala and the others in, hit the panel, activated launch.
"Eli, come on!"
He turned to follow—
A red blade burst through the doorway.
And then a voice.
Calm. Icy. Familiar.
"Not this time."
---
Eli turned just as Anakin strode into the chamber, cloak fluttering, eyes lit with hate.
They locked gazes.
And Eli remembered everything.
Every loop. Every death. Every scream.
He raised his saber — one last time.
---
The world turned white.
The floor vanished.
And he was…
---
...back in bed.
The wind outside the Temple howled softly.
Tavi snored. Niyala mumbled in her sleep.
Everything was the same.
Eli sat up, shaking.
No. No no no.
He had done everything right.
He had trained, warned them, fought beside a Master.
And it still wasn't enough.
---
He fell back on his mat, hands over his face.
Tears welled up. Not from fear.
From fury.
Because now, more than ever…
He knew who he had to kill.