The Council Chamber felt emptier once the Avengers departed, their vibrant energy replaced by the contemplative silence of Jedi Masters wrestling with uncomfortable truths.
Mace Windu was the first to speak, his voice low and heavy. "The dark side clings to her. Not just touches—it surrounds her. Like she's walked through shadow so long it's become part of her skin."
Obi-Wan crossed his arms, his gaze distant. "What we witnessed today wasn't the full extent of her abilities. Plo's assessment on Dathomir was clear—he barely scratched the surface of what she's capable of." He shook his head slowly. "I can't imagine what would happen if she truly unleashed everything."
"Yet she means us no harm." Kit Fisto leaned back in his seat, his ever-present smile dimmed but not extinguished. "What we saw was controlled. Measured. She showed us only what she wanted us to see."
"Which makes her dangerous." Oppo Rancisis's serpentine lower body coiled tighter around his chair, his four arms folding in a gesture of deep concern. "Power that measured, that controlled—it speaks to experience with darkness most Jedi never survive."
"That's harsh, Master Rancisis." Luminara Unduli's voice carried a rare edge of reproach. "She's an Avenger. They've given us aid when we desperately needed it. We can't judge her solely on the energy she carries."
"Can't we?" Oppo's golden eyes narrowed. "What value is an ally if we cannot trust them?"
"She is both," Luminara countered firmly. "Suspect and ally. We cannot dismiss her contributions because her past troubles us."
Depa Billaba spoke up, her tone thoughtful. "Perhaps we should focus less on what she carries and more on where she's been. Dathomir shaped her. Understanding that place might help us understand her."
Plo Koon's breath mask hissed softly. "Not every Avenger has lived a comfortable life. Their Captain was frozen for decades. Their Widow was raised as an assassin. Wanda Maximoff's past clearly holds similar shadows."
"Dathomir has that effect on people," Kit murmured. "The planet itself is steeped in old magick. Living there for months, studying with the Nightsisters—it would leave marks on anyone."
Obi-Wan nodded slowly. "From what I observed, she's working to reconcile her past. She's received care, support from her team. But Dathomir gave her something—knowledge, perhaps, or perspective—that's fundamentally changed her worldview."
"The Nightsisters are not easily trusted," Mace said, his voice carrying the weight of experience. "Especially Mother Talzin's faction. They trade in power and secrets. If Wanda learned from them—"
"Then she learned Nightsister philosophy," Ki-Adi-Mundi finished. "Which raises a troubling question: what would we do if she turned to the dark side fully?"
The chamber fell silent.
Obi-Wan's voice, when it came, was edged with steel. "We cannot judge the Avengers by Jedi standards. They operate on different principles, draw power from different sources. To assume Wanda will fall simply because she carries darkness is to fundamentally misunderstand who these people are."
More silence, deeper this time.
The Council members sat with the discomfort of that statement. These offworlders didn't fit their frameworks. The twins, Vision, and young Peter Parker all resonated with the Force, yet their power came from elsewhere—technology, mutation, accidents of circumstance. They were anomalies in a galaxy that rarely produced true anomalies.
"I trust," Shaak Ti said carefully, her holographic form flickering slightly, "that we will not jeopardize our relationship with the Avengers over philosophical differences."
"We are not fools," Obi-Wan said, his frustration finally breaking through his diplomatic veneer. "If we treated Ms. Maximoff as a threat—if we acted against her or any other Avenger—do you truly believe the rest of their team would stand beside us? We'd lose their aid and make powerful enemies in one stroke."
"A decision," Plo Koon rumbled, "we hope never to face."
"Are we actually considering this?" Obi-Wan demanded. "Treating our allies as potential enemies based on speculation?"
"No," Plo said firmly. "We should not walk that path."
Mace rubbed his temples, the gesture betraying his exhaustion. "Then what path do we walk? We have an Avenger who speaks like—" He stopped himself, reconsidering.
Kit Fisto leaned forward, his expression sharpening with sudden interest. "Master Yoda, did anything Wanda said sound... familiar to you?"
Yoda, who had been silent throughout the debate, opened his eyes. "Meetra Surik."
The name hung in the air like a ghost.
"The Exile," Adi Gallia breathed. "You think there's a connection?"
"A coincidence, perhaps," Yoda said slowly, his voice carrying centuries of weight. "The holocron of Meetra Surik contains not just her knowledge, but the lessons she learned fighting the Sith Triumvirate. Wisdom from the Mandalorian Wars and the years after. Even teachings from Darth Traya—or Kreia, as she was called before her fall."
"That's..." Adi shook her head in disbelief. "Wanda's words, her philosophy about darkness and attachment—it mirrors what we know of the Exile's teachings."
"Is there another exile holocron?" Kit asked, though his tone suggested he already knew the answer. "One we don't know about?"
Saesee Tiin, who had remained silent through most of the council session, finally spoke. His voice was rough from disuse, heavy with old sorrow. "We lost much during the Jedi Purge four thousand years ago. Knowledge. Artifacts. Entire philosophical traditions erased." His eyes, dark and unreadable, swept the council. "It's possible something survived that we never recovered. Whether Wanda Maximoff encountered such an artifact..." He trailed off. "We cannot know without asking."
"Later, we will address this," Yoda said, tapping his gimer stick against the floor with quiet finality. "Other duties call us now. Much to do, we still have."
The council members rose, exchanging weighted glances as they filed out. The conversation was far from over, but for now, they had their orders.
Soon, only Yoda remained.
The ancient Jedi Master sat in silence, his eyes distant, contemplating patterns that had repeated across millennia. History, he had learned, never truly ended. It simply changed costumes and returned to the stage.
After several minutes, he tapped the controls on his chair's armrest. The seat rose smoothly, hovering a few feet off the ground, and Yoda guided it through the Temple corridors with practiced ease.
He passed meditation chambers where Padawans practiced Form I under watchful Knights. Traversed the Archives where Jocasta Nu directed researchers with brisk efficiency. Acknowledged bowing Jedi with small nods, his presence a constant reminder of the Order's deep roots.
Finally, he found who he sought.
"Captain Rogers," Yoda called out, his voice carrying clearly despite the Temple's ambient noise.
Steve turned, his yellow cape—a gift from the Naboo—settling around his shoulders. "Master Yoda." He straightened with military precision, though his expression remained warm. "What can I do for you?"
"Nothing in particular, Captain," Yoda said, though his eyes sparkled with unspoken purpose. "But speak with Vision, I wish to. If time he has."
Vision and Steve exchanged glances. The synthetic Avenger tilted his head slightly, processing, then Steve shrugged—an easy gesture of trust.
"Of course, Master," Vision said. "Lead the way."
Steve's hand briefly touched Vision's shoulder, a silent gesture of support, before he stepped back and let the two proceed.
Yoda guided his chair through quieter corridors until they reached a small meditation chamber. The door hissed shut behind them, and suddenly the Temple's background noise ceased entirely. This room was shielded—designed for deep contemplation without external interference.
"Is something wrong, Master?" Vision asked once they were alone.
Yoda's ears twitched thoughtfully. "Wrong? Perhaps not. But revealing, things may be becoming." He settled his chair lower, bringing himself closer to Vision's eye level. "The council meeting gave us much to consider. Regarding Wanda..."
Vision waited, patient as only a being without biological impatience could be.
"Your impression of her?" Yoda asked instead of continuing. "What think you, of Wanda Maximoff?"
Vision considered the question with visible care. "She carries pain. Deep trauma from her past—experimentation, loss, manipulation. But she's found purpose with the Avengers. Family. Dathomir taught her to embrace aspects of herself she'd feared." He paused. "I believe she's dangerous if threatened. But so are all of us."
Yoda nodded slowly. "Too early, it is, to judge. Act without understanding, we must not."
"How did the Council handle Meetra Surik's connection?" Vision asked, shifting the conversation with deliberate curiosity. "When it was first discovered?"
"With caution," Yoda admitted. "Deep investigation conducted, we did. Research. Understanding the context before deciding how to proceed." His expression grew distant, remembering. "Wisdom and courage both, we needed. Meetra's teachings challenged much of what we believed. Still do."
"You've learned from it," Vision observed.
"Much," Yoda agreed, a smile tugging at his mouth.
"That wasn't my doing," Vision said modestly.
"No," Yoda chuckled. "But first brought it to our attention, you did. Your insight during your initial visit to our Temple—see beyond the surface, you could. Personal experience with it, however, is different from theoretical knowledge."
Vision's luminous eyes brightened slightly. "You want to meet Bendu."
"If the time is right, yes." Yoda's voice carried genuine eagerness—rare for one so ancient. "Seek more understanding, I do. Another perspective. Another approach to the Force beyond Jedi and Sith dichotomy. Always more to learn, there is. Rediscover much, we must."
"Returning to Atollon may be difficult now," Vision said thoughtfully. "The war has spread across the galaxy. Travel is unpredictable. But perhaps..." He tilted his head. "You and I could meet privately first. I could share what I learned from Bendu—his philosophy, his teachings, his view of the Force as something beyond light and dark."
Yoda's ears perked upward, his entire demeanor shifting to one of keen interest. "Opportunity to deepen understanding, I will not miss," he said firmly. "Grateful, I am, Vision."
"You're welcome, Master Yoda."
They sat together in comfortable silence, two beings separated by centuries and galaxies, united in their pursuit of wisdom.
Outside the meditation chamber, the Jedi Temple continued its eternal routines. Younglings learned to sense the Force. Knights prepared for deployment. Masters studied ancient texts.