Kanan sighed, his eyes softening. He knew the weight Ezra carried. He’d seen the boy’s struggle to trust, to let go of the fear that had kept him alive for so long. "The Force isn't about the long way or the short way, Ezra. It's about being present. If you're always looking behind you, you'll never see what's right in front of you."

Kanan turned, a small smile playing on his lips. "Maybe it didn't lead you to me, Ezra. Maybe it led us to each other. We’re both survivors. And together, we might just be something more."

"Why me? Out of all the kids on Lothal... why did the Force lead me to you?"

"This isn't just a supply run," Hera said, her eyes fixed on the star chart. "If the Empire gets those crystals, they're one step closer to whatever nightmare they’re building. We intercept them at the docking bay, grab what we can, and blow the rest."

"The Empire's been tightening patrols in Sector 4," Ezra countered, hopping onto a crate. "I had to take the long way back."

As the Ghost jumped into the swirling blue of hyperspace, Ezra felt a strange calm. He looked at Kanan, who was staring out at the stars. "Kanan?" Ezra whispered.

The ghost of a sensation—a cold shiver—raced down Ezra Bridger’s spine as he sat atop the communication tower on Lothal. He wasn't looking at the sunset; he was looking at the Imperial complex in the distance.

Inside the Ghost , the atmosphere was thick with the smell of Hera’s cooking and the rhythmic thrum of the ship’s engines. Kanan Jarrus stood in the common room, his arms crossed, watching Ezra enter.