Are You Brave?

Part 1

are you brave? the devil asked.

no, she answered, but i am alive.

and sometimes those two things are the same. // j.a.s.

There were only two things worth seeing on Jedha: the Temple of Kyber and the sky. Bodhi had only visited the first once in his life – temple visits were for tourists and travellers, and his grandmother made good money spinning old stories and legends as she guided them to the temple. She'd lean hard on her cane and idly mention that generosity to others drew the Force to you, as if charity would get the Force's attention like a stone thrown into a pond, but more often than not, it worked. The temple was a special place, after all – people wanted to do the right thing before they came in to marvel at the glittering kyber crystals, speak in hushed tones around the Guardians.

The Guardians of the Whills were not Jedi, of course – everyone knew there were no Jedi left in the galaxy – and they weren't monks either. More than once they'd tossed an aspiring thief out with broken bones or blaster burns. They were hardened, strange people who preached about the Force to anyone who would listen, but they remembered his grandmother and her family, on hard nights when the cold could crack windows and the sand wore down the walls. They lent them a heater once, and Bodhi remembered the first night clustered around it feeling like it stretched on for an eternity.

"We're an old people," his grandmother had said. "An old people, and Jedha's even older. There's some treasure under the sand and in the caves, yes, but secrets, too. Ghosts and bones of what we once were. Damned shame that only the Guardians care anymore. Guardians and gawkers."

"Mother, please," his mother said, avoiding her sharp gaze.

"What'll you do when I'm gone? Keep on fixing up droids and speeders until you're my age? And you, Bodhi – get your eyes off the horizon and look at what you're standing on, for once." He'd ducked his head and said nothing – his grandmother in a fierce mood could chew through a tank.

"Looking to the past is a luxury, mother. That's why we've got tourists and pilgrims doing it. Bodhi's smart, he's got a knack for tech – with any luck, he'll get somewhere with that."

He did want to go somewhere – anywhere. It was hard not to, when he'd spent his life looking up. On clear days, the sky was a blue so sharp that the horizon seemed like an edge, cutting into rock and sand. Even on a quiet day, there was always NaJedha in the sky as Jedha completed its slow orbit around it, but quiet days were rare – ships dropped in and out of hyperspace all the time, clustering around the spaceport. Tourists and gawkers, as his grandmother said. Travellers, too, pilgrims coming to visit the temple in solemn processions, bounty hunters and traders, and their ships, sleek or ornate or battered. Bodhi had spent long hours watching the ships dock, had even helped fetch parts a few times.

One day, he was going to fly out of here. He'd never been far from the city, and his family hadn't left Jedha since his own grandmother had been a child. Bodhi would be the one to have the galaxy open before him, and then... well, he'd come back, with new stories to tell, and things would be better.

One day.