Hidden Jedi Temple, Lothal Wastelands6 BBY (One Month After the Gray Syndicate Meeting)
The temple sang.
Not with sound that ears could detect, but with harmonies that resonated through channels the Force opened in Ezra's perception. Each step deeper into the ancient structure revealed new layers of complexity, melodies woven through stone and time that spoke of purposes older than the Empire, older than the Republic, older than most of galactic civilization.
Ezra had discovered the entrance three weeks ago, following glyphs he'd memorized during the relay station collapse. The path had led him through mining tunnels that descended far beneath Lothal's surface, through passages carved by hands long returned to dust, until finally the rock gave way to worked stone and the unmistakable architecture of Jedi construction.
The temple had been waiting. That was the only way to describe the sensation that greeted him when he'd first crossed its threshold. Not hostile, not welcoming exactly, but aware. Observing. Testing him through trials that manifested as much in his mind as in physical space.
He'd returned every few days since, whenever operational security permitted absence from Capital City's criminal networks. Each visit pushed him further into the temple's depths, each meditation session in its chambers amplified his connection to the Force in ways months of solo practice hadn't approached.
And tonight, for the first time, he wasn't alone.
She appeared in the central meditation chamber like she'd been there all along, just waiting for his perception to catch up with reality. Human, or humanoid enough that species distinction felt irrelevant. She wore robes that seemed woven from light itself, and her presence in the Force was...
Music...
Not metaphorically, not as poetic description, but actual music. A symphony of tones and harmonies that his awareness translated into sensory experience beyond normal categories. She was a choir, an orchestra, a melody so complex and beautiful that his conscious mind struggled to process it without fragmenting into overwhelmed static.
"You hear it," she said, and even her voice carried that musical quality, each word a note in larger composition. "The song of the Force. That's rare, young one. Precious."
Ezra's throat closed around words, shock stealing his ability to respond. He'd been training for months, developing his Force abilities through trial and error and half-remembered lessons from a television show. But standing before this presence, he felt like a child who'd been playing at understanding something vast and unknowable.
"Who are you?" he finally managed.
"I am Avar Kriss. Or I was, when I walked among the living. Now I'm what remains, an echo preserved in this place by purpose strong enough to transcend death." She moved closer, and Ezra realized she wasn't quite solid, wasn't entirely present in the way physical objects were. A Force ghost, his Earth memories supplied. A Jedi who'd learned to maintain consciousness beyond death.
"You're dead."
"A temporary condition, from a certain point of view." Her smile carried warmth that the musical resonance of her presence amplified. "But you didn't come here seeking philosophy. You came seeking strength, seeking understanding of what you are and what you might become."
"I don't know what I am," Ezra admitted, the words surprising him with their honesty. "I hear things others don't. Feel connections that shouldn't exist. The Force shows me patterns like music, each person a different instrument, different tone. I thought I was going crazy."
"Not crazy. Gifted." Avar gestured, and suddenly the chamber transformed. Or his perception did, impossible to distinguish which. He could see the Force itself, rendered as waves of light and sound that interpenetrated all matter. And within those waves, individual notes, each one corresponding to a living being.
Capital City sprawled in his awareness like a vast symphony, millions of voices creating harmony and discord in equal measure. He could distinguish individuals within that chorus, pick out Jari's determined brass, Kol's recovering woodwind melody, even Yahenna's complex jazz improvisation.
"This is how you experience reality," Avar said. "Force Resonance, we called it in my time. The ability to sense the Force not as abstract energy but as living music, each being contributing their unique voice to creation's grand composition."
The revelation hit him like physical impact. He'd been trying to force his abilities into frameworks he'd learned from Star Wars media, treating the Force like a tool to be wielded rather than a symphony to be experienced. No wonder his progress had felt disjointed, incomplete.
"Can you teach me?" The question emerged desperate, hungry in ways he hadn't realized he'd been starving.
"I can guide you toward understanding you already possess." Avar's presence shifted, and suddenly the music intensified. "Close your eyes. Extend your awareness outward. Don't reach for the Force, listen to it. Hear how each voice connects to others, how harmonies form between beings in relationship."
Ezra followed her instruction, letting his awareness drift outward while that strange auditory perception took over. The city's symphony resolved into individual movements, patterns that connected people through emotion and circumstance. He could hear Ria's solo somewhere in the western districts, her melody intertwining with others in her crew. Could taste the dischord where Imperial presence created interference in the natural harmonies.
And beneath it all, threading through every voice, a bass line that spoke of Lothal itself. The planet's presence in the Force, ancient and patient and aware in ways that made human consciousness seem like brief sparks against infinite time.
"You feel it now," Avar said, her voice part of the music rather than separate from it. "Every being sings their unique song. A Force user with your gift can learn to harmonize with those voices, amplify them, weave them together into effects no individual could achieve alone."
She demonstrated, and Ezra watched in awe as she took the scattered notes around them and wove them into something greater. The temple itself began resonating, stone and air vibrating with power that built from connection rather than individual strength.
"This is what you could become," Avar continued. "Not just a warrior or a mystic, but a conductor. Someone who helps others find their voice in the Force's great composition. With proper training, with understanding of what you are, you could coordinate efforts that seem impossible. Feel entire armies as a choir, know their needs and fears as intimately as your own thoughts."
The implications staggered him. This ability, properly developed, would make him invaluable. He could sense enemy positions through the discord their presence created, coordinate allied forces with precision that transcended normal command structures, maybe even help Force-sensitive individuals discover abilities they'd never known they possessed.
"How do I train this?" Ezra asked. "How do I get better?"
"Practice what I show you now." Avar's presence enveloped him, and suddenly he was experiencing her memories directly. Meditation techniques from an era when the Jedi numbered thousands, exercises designed to refine Force Resonance into practical application. How to isolate individual voices from the chorus. How to send harmonies that calmed fear or bolstered courage. How to detect lies through the discord they created in someone's personal melody.
The knowledge flooded through him, months or years of training compressed into moments of direct transmission. His conscious mind couldn't process it all immediately, but it settled into his awareness like a seed that would germinate given time and practice.
When the vision released him, Ezra found himself on his knees, gasping, tears streaming down his face though he couldn't identify their source. Joy or grief or overwhelming gratitude, all mixed together until emotional distinction became meaningless.
"...Thank you," he whispered.
"Thank yourself," Avar replied. "You had the courage to seek understanding when ignorance would have been safer. That matters more than any technique I could teach." Her presence began fading, the musical complexity that defined her dimming toward silence.
"I know what you're trying to do...Ezra Bridger. In a time of such darkness, I admire your courage..." She admits with a warm smile on her face. Return when you can. Practice what I've shown you. And remember, the Force's song is one of connection, not domination. Power that separates you from others will destroy what makes you special."
She vanished, leaving Ezra alone in the chamber with knowledge that felt like fire in his mind and heart.
He didn't know how long he sat there, processing what had happened. Hours, probably. Long enough that when he finally emerged from the temple, dawn was painting the eastern sky and his body ached from maintained meditation posture.
But something fundamental had shifted. The Force no longer felt like external power he struggled to access, but like his native language, the way he'd always perceived reality without recognizing it.