The utter dismissal of Thane, the arrogance of Thang, and your failure have you wanting to do nothing more than pick up your sword and slowly bury the blade in the closest two men. And if that doesn’t fully satisfy you, then maybe you can do the same to the onlookers who found mirth in the show. Like a defeated animal, you retreat away from the victors as you go to tend yourself. As you walk away, you decide that your finger is indeed broken; you prove it to yourself when you try to straighten it. The attempt causes pain to explode in your finger, and you stop the probing test as soon as you started.

Having a broken bone, even if far from serious, is something that will get in the way of your learning. It needs to be healed so you can continue, and you’ve already got one finger set in a slightly wrong position. You don’t want to add to it. Walking to the medical centre, you seethe as you relive the experience again and again as you cradle the hand of the broken finger. Unlike the old marble ziggurat, the medical building is one of the black steel and glass shards that pierce out of the ground.

Someone, you assume to be a doctor, smiles at you as you enter. The entire ward is as clean as anything you’ve seen before and devoid of patients. You guess Murl is in his room, resting there. The thought of Murl brings you slight joy in your cloud of rage. The doctor asks you what the issue is and takes you to an empty bay. A device chimes with a message, and the doctor apologises, claiming he will send someone who is even more skilled than he is. You huff at the words, but you don’t really care. In reality, you are just mildly irritated about the inconvenience; your mind is still on Thang.

Something inside you whispers. It is the dragon with its furnace-heart, but this time it doesn’t scream or rages. Instead, the serpent coils and slithers, waiting for you. It is waiting for you to do something. Unable to decipher its meaning, you call upon your strength, allowing the Force to run free. Your finger shoots with agony, and you writhe upon the bed that was your seat, screams echo from your mouth as the pain eclipses the initial injury. After what feels like an eternity, the pain subsides as beads of sweat roll from your forehead. Looking back at your finger, the cause of such agony —the swelling that had expanded the digit has subsided. With a cautious flex of the finger, it works, and none of the pain that was previously there remains. Through the Force, you have healed your finger.