Mak bowed his head slightly in acknowledgment to Tyron, a gesture of respect that held a hint of curiosity. Meeting the young Padawan's gaze, he could see the eagerness in his expression — a spark of potential that reminded him of the many padawans that he had trained in the long past of his life. However, as Valery turned her attention back to him, he felt the weight of her expectations pressing down on his shoulders.
Surprise flickered across his face as he processed Valery's suggestion. He had not anticipated this proposal, her faith in him as a mentor stirring a whirlwind of emotions he had tried to bury. To nurture a Padawan; it was both a privilege and a daunting responsibility. He opened his mouth to speak, yet only a frown emerged instead, his brow furrowing as he weighed the implications. The solitude he cherished would inevitably be challenged by such an arrangement.
He hadn't been expecting this; stopping Malic was his goal, yet now Valery and the Council wanted him to be involved with training Tyron. His thoughts flew back to Kaen, his very last padawan he had mentored from his old dimension. The reluctant Jedi was what Mak had described him, for all of his powers and tenacity, for all of his unwavering belief in the Jedi, the boy had hated being in a position of power. They had almost come to blows with getting Kaen to accept being a Jedi Master.
That was when he and Kaen had stopped talking...
"You want me... to train Tyron...?
Looking at the boy again, Mak's grip tightened on his cane as he ran a hand through his beard, trying to push aside the ghosts of his past and focus on the present. The weight of his own doubts and concerns felt like they were pushing down on him, but he knew he couldn't afford to let them consume him. He had a responsibility to the Council, to Valery, and to young Tyron, who was looking at him with such hope in his eyes. Despite the fact that he was still a rogue, he had told Valery that his powers and abilities were at her discretion.
Mak took a deep breath, letting the silence hang for a moment as he gathered his thoughts. He could feel the gravity of the situation pressing on him like a thick blanket, stifling yet familiar. He had slithered this path before, but every Padawan brought with them their own set of challenges, their own unique spirit requiring different nurturance.
There was only one question that fell on him: would he damage another relationship with a Jedi?
"I'm not the best choice for this, Tyron," he finally said, his voice rough but firm.
"I'm gruff, stubborn, and I don't do well with… well, with the whole 'mentoring' business anymore." He studied the boy's face, watching the flicker of disappointment that passed through Tyron's eyes.
"But, if Valery believes you can handle my teaching… I suppose I can manage."
Leaning on his cane, he now focused on the boy.
"Don't think for a moment this will be easy," Mak continued, his voice rough like gravel yet betraying an underlying warmth.
"I'm a difficult taskmaster, Tyron; one of the greatest when I last served an order of Jedi. If you're here to train under me, you better be prepared to face challenges that will test your resolve and tenacity."
He leaned heavily on his cane, the silence hanging in the air heavy with unspoken expectations.
"I won't coddle you like some would. No, instead, I will push you to your limits—physically, mentally, and emotionally. You'll face failure and frustration. But if you truly wish to be a Jedi, if you will see this through with me, I will teach you the powers that I know..."
