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To that end, his Master had taken him to one of the oldest sectors on Coruscant, a run-down, ruin of a sector; all around it, technology had grown and flourished, but here it seemed as if nothing could progress...only wither and rot.
“This is the site of the first Temple,” Qui-Gon had explained once they arrived. “Thousands of years ago it was abandoned, and the Temple we have now was built. No one remembers why, and there are no records concerning the move.”
“Was someone trying to hide the truth?” Obi-Wan asked, more curious than apprehensive as he stood outside the crumbling wreck that had once been the center of Jedi learning.
“Perhaps.” Qui-Gon tucked his hands inside his sleeves and regarded his apprentice dispassionately. “Some say the Dark Side took hold here, and the Temple itself was permanently tainted. Maybe this is so, maybe it is not. However, I believe it will be the ideal place for you to learn what fear is.”
Obi-Wan glanced at the ancient Temple, then up at his Master. “What do you want me to do?”
“Nothing,” was the calm reply. “Merely spend the night within its walls. Tomorrow morning, I will come back for you, and you may tell me what you’ve learned.”
“You’re not staying?” His eyebrows shot up into his hairline at this revelation; he could count on one hand the number of times he’d been separated from his Master during his apprenticeship, and normally whenever there was a lesson to be learning, Qui-Gon was right there, watching his progress, offering a gentle nudge in the right direction if needed.
“No.” Qui-Gon shook his head firmly. “This is a lesson you must learn entirely on your own. Or not, as the case may be. Either way, I cannot help you.”
With that, he turned and headed back to the shuttle, his long strides eating up the ground quickly, never once looking back. Obi-Wan stood quietly and watched him go, waiting til the shuttle was out of sight before he faced the entrance to the Temple again, wondering what lay in store for him.
Probably nothing, he thought, yet he found his hand straying to the pommel of his lightsaber as he cautiously edged towards the door--and then silently berated himself for approaching it as if he were going into battle. It was just an old building. The rumors of Dark influence were probably just that: rumors. And even if they weren’t, what did it matter to him? He had faced temptation before and overcome it. This time would be no different.
His boots rang against the marble-lined entry hall, echoes of his footsteps making the dust tremble and fall; it wasn’t long before he was coughing lightly and wiping his eyes as he prowled around, exploring the long-abandoned rooms and wondering how long it had been since anyone else had been there. Probably not all that long, he surmised, noting the remains of a campsite in what appeared to be the former dining hall. Whatever furnishings it had once had were gone, save for a single long table and a few charis that were remarkably similar to the ones in the present Temple. Some things, he grimaced, never changed, and the uncomfortable chairs at the dinner tables were apparently one of them.
Someone had been there, and that someone had left in a hurry, not bothering to clear out all their belongings. There were concentrate tubes scattered around, the ragged remains of a bedroll, and a burnt-out lamp. Everything was covered in dust and cobwebs, so the visitors had not been recent, however, he felt safe in saying they’d probably been there during his lifetime.
It seemed as good a place as any to make his own nest for the night, and so he unpacked his satchel, flipping out his bedroll and lighting his own two little lamps to chase away the pervasive gloom. Settling himself in an attiude of meditation, he glanced around, watching his shadow flickering on the wall with his every movement. He didn’t find the place frightening at all, but it was so very quiet and lonely. If his Master had been there, perhaps they might not have nattered incessantly to each other, but at least he could’ve taken comfort in knowing Master Qui-Gon was there to talk to if he wished or to be comfortably silent with if he wished.
Remembering his Master’s wish that he might learn what fear was in this place, Obi-Wan remained alert and watchful for as long as he could, but as the hours crept by and nothing happened, he realized his eyelids were growing heavy, and he found himself nodding off where he sat.
It was then a diminuative figure emerged from the shadows...