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A venomous sneer warps your face. Your hands rest on two polished silver grips. And adrenalin flows through your every vein. Locked in your chest, your heart begins to pulse with a fury of a war drum pounded on the eve of battle. The red pupils expand as your eyes narrow into a sneer. Hot and loud breaths puff from your flaring nostrils. Your fingers become claws and fuse with the hilts of your Lightsabers, the small hills of your knuckles are painted white by the intense grasp. Fire dances in your scarlet eyes as you glare deep into the Iktotchi.
You will not give him what he wants. You will not draw your blades and engage him in combat. You will not humiliate him and his cronies by swiftly defeating them with your blades. And you could do it, the Force has been with you today, what challenge would the five of them be able to conjure up that Alyla could not? Perhaps you will be gifted a chance to humble Chook in the Ceremony of Swords, the final part of today’s graduation. The biggest reason you do not draw your Lightsabers is the punishment that would follow. Strick rules exist for duelling outside the combat pods, let alone an unprovoked attack. How could one know if you’ve got your Lightsaber on training mode or full power? The difference between them could mean a slight sting in the ribs or a complete bisection.
As your mind cleanses, it reveals his simplistic plan for what it is. A trap to soil this day, to hinder your ability to become a true Jedi, and, if not, the chance to beat you with his newly constructed Lightsaber. An attempt to claim revenge for the continual defeats you have gifted him in class, now backed up with a numbers advantage. Still feeling the hot anger inside, you remove your hands from the hilts and simply glare at him.
After a short, wordless silence, you reach into your soul. There is the Force, and it is a cold wind that soothes and calms your anger, leading it from your body. The hostile feelings boiling inside you wane and wilt. Yet, vestige remnants of negative emotions remain, impossible to scour off the seeds of hatred lying dormant, waiting in torpor, waiting to grow back even stronger than before. Finally, your eyes are free, and you rip them from him, looking towards the exit, forwards to the future and your apprenticeship under your destined master.
