You were pissed. You had been since that afternoon. Anakin Skywalker, aka “The Chosen One”, had hurt you. He hadn’t meant to, of course he hadn’t. After all, he was your best friend, and he cared for you more than he’d admit to Obi-Wan or the Jedi council.

It had all occurred during a brief training session with him. With your long cloaks shed, left in only your Jedi robes, you two had been fighting like beasts in an arena. Lightsabers clashed against one another, and for a brief second, sirens sounded in your head.

That should’ve been your first sign, but you ignored it, as you always did, chalking the warnings up to nothing but mere anxiety. Then, seconds later, the siren sounded again as you continued to battle with Anakin.

With lightsabers crossed, he pulled down. You were quick, but he was quicker. His lightsaber just barely grazed your arm, leaving a deep red burn mark covering your skin. You were upset, hurt. You hadn’t spoken to Anakin for hours. A knock at your door, followed by the very boy you were angry with’s voice, snapped you out of your thoughts.