The days passed uneventfully.
The same routine: eat, attempt to master that strange sensation, and sleep.
I had never considered myself a particularly persistent person, but for the first time in my life, I refused to give up in my search for answers.
I was certain I would find them.
Something inside me told me so.
And I did.
After several months…
I succeeded.
It was the Force.
That mystical energy spoken of throughout the Star Wars saga.
How did I know?
There were no words.
No voice whispering in my ear.
I simply…
understood.
My mind was flooded with information.
Memories that were not my own—whether from the distant past or the far future, I could not tell—but they were there.
I saw Jedi wielding lightsabers amid the chaos of war.
I saw them leading armies.
I saw them destroy the very lives they had sworn to protect.
Everything became clear.
And then…
Everything returned to darkness.
When I regained consciousness, I felt lighter, as though the entire universe had embraced me.
As though I finally belonged to it.
The voices around me began to make sense.
I couldn’t fully understand them yet, but I knew it wouldn’t take long.
The Force had granted me knowledge beyond anything I could have imagined.
I could sense the emotions of living beings…
And now, I was beginning to decipher their language as well.
I was six months old.
I had grown tired of the same routine, though it allowed me to understand something important:
They treated me as their last hope.
We were an almost extinct Mandalorian clan.
A mysterious disease had ravaged our people, pushing them to the brink of extinction.
I was the last descendant of the clan’s ruling bloodline.
Fen’ruus.
A strange surname…
But a powerful one.
My name was Azmar Fen’ruus.
And I liked it.
My father had been the clan’s last chief.
No one ever mentioned his name.
They only said that he had died honorably while protecting his people.
My mother, the current leader, was named Fey Fen’ruus.
She could rarely spend time with me because of the fear that she might infect me with the mysterious illness that had cut our population in half, claiming mostly male lives.
With each passing day, I became better at understanding those around me.
I managed to gather valuable information, though I still didn’t know where exactly I stood within the timeline of the canon.
What I did discover was that I was on Concordia, one of Mandalore’s moons.
A remote territory, far removed from the central civilization and the great clans.
Our clan was known for raising and taming Fen Wolves, powerful beasts used for hunting and tracking.
The great wolf I had met when I first opened my eyes belonged to my mother.
His name was Fen’rar.
He had survived countless battles and stood as the alpha of the pack.
Sometimes, I would watch him in silence.
His fur was black, but not like the darkness of night.
It resembled the emptiness of space itself, scattered with markings that evoked the phases of the moon.
His eyes still possessed that icy depth capable of inspiring both awe and respect.
The Force had done more than improve my perception.
It had also accelerated my growth.
At least, that was what I overheard one of the elderly women who constantly examined me saying.
By the time I was eight months old, I could already stand on my own.
The day I took my first steps, everyone was astonished.
That night, they held a feast.
Not just because of me.
The disease was gone.
No one knew how it had arrived or how it had disappeared, but six months had passed since the last death.
The relief was palpable.
So was the joy.
Yet the pain of loss…
Still lingered.
The feast was simple.
At the center of the gathering rested a creature resembling a deer.
The women wore modest clothing, but their faces shone with happiness.
Some danced around a bonfire.
Others distributed food and drink.
It was a humble celebration…
Yet full of life.
I sat at the center of it all in my mother’s arms, with Fen’rar resting beside us.
I observed the clan’s guards.
Many were accompanied by wolves—smaller than Fen’rar, but no less fierce.
Most of the guards were women.
There were very few men left.
Nearly all of the young men, adults, and elders had perished from the disease.
The guards wore full suits of armor similar to hardened leather, dyed black and decorated with patterns of stars and moons.
Simple in design…
Yet intimidating in presence.
Some of them, particularly those of higher rank, carried pieces of beskar—the most precious metal in Mandalore, capable of withstanding blaster fire and even the blade of a lightsaber.
The feast eventually came to an end with a speech from my mother.
It was a message of hope for the future…
And a tribute to those who had fallen.
She raised me before the entire clan.
And in that moment…
I understood.
The path that awaited me.
A responsibility I had never imagined I would bear.
The fate of many lives…
Rested upon my shoulders.