Sword of Shiraya
In the light of the temple's archives, Lorn hunched over a weathered tome, the pages filled with tales of valor and wisdom from ages past. Tucked away in an alcove, he sought refuge from the bustling hallways of the Order, but the silence felt suffocating. The burden of his new responsibilities weighed heavily on his shoulders. As a member of the Council, he was expected to inspire the next generation of Jedi, yet he felt as if he were merely masquerading in a role far beyond his capabilities.
Late twenties and battle-scarred, Lorn was no stranger to hardship. He had learned to wield a lightsaber with finesse and had faced countless foes in combat, but the scholarly world eluded him. The very act of reading felt alien, daunting. Each turn of the page was laborious, and the knowledge within seemed to slip through his fingers like sand. Struggling to integrate the stories of the great Jedi into his own life, he found himself frustrated by the mundane nature of the studies. This was not the fiery passion of sparring with a fellow knight. It was quiet, slow, and... dare he admit it, dull.
As the minutes crept by, Lorn's eyelids grew heavy, and he fought the urge to sink deeper into his seat. He had always learned through experience, through the teachings of beloved mentors, their lessons etched into his heart rather than on parchment. Now, sitting among the shelves of forgotten knowledge, he wondered if a warrior could ever truly become a scholar. In that moment, a flicker of doubt danced in his mind, threatening to extinguish the resolve that had defined him all these years.
