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The temple looked older than old, the stone crumbling in some places and so worn away in others that the statues had no faces or form beyond vaguely humanoid. But Obi-wan entered. If it was untouched, perhaps he could hide from his pursuers.
And he did need to hide. As a junior Padawan, he was not yet capable of fighting off so many pirates. If they found him, they would kill him and take the datachip he was guarding from his cold body – in the best case.
It was dark inside the temple. Obi-wan could see old lights set into the walls, but they were all dark and most of them were shattered. It looked like they were made of real glass, and not transperasteel. It was quiet, too, quiet except for the grumbling of his stomach, which made him jump a little.
Obi-wan reached out into the Force, trying to sense any danger. The Force felt just as quiet and still inside the old temple as it seemed, so Obi-wan started walking, exploring the area mostly to get to know it. With his lightsaber lit, he looked around, peering at every wall and bit of half-vanished art.
The temple had writing on some of the walls. Closer to the entrance, they were far too faded for Obi-wan to notice, let alone figure anything out, but deeper inside, he could make the letters out well enough to realize they felt familiar. He couldn’t read with them, or even name the script, but the sharp, angular letters felt like some half-remembered manuscript he had seen in one of his classes in the Temple.
That was where he had seen those letters before, Obi-wan was sure, but he couldn’t remember what the class had been on. Odd to find that writing here, though, on this backwater. If, of course, he was right and not just confusing two visually similar writing systems.
Obi-wan’s stomach grumbled again and he grimaced at the hunger that was getting harder to ignore. If he didn’t know better, he would have thought that he hadn’t eaten lunch. But he had stopped briefly to eat a ration bar while being chased. The ration bar hadn’t been the most filling thing, but he didn’t think he should feel so hungry already. But he was. He considered that he might have lost track of time at some point in the chase or inside the temple. Whatever the reason, Obi-wan did have more ration bars and there was no reason to expect to urgently need them later.
Obi-wan, deciding he was far enough into the temple that the light of his lightsaber wouldn’t give him away, opened up one of the ration bars. It was difficult to do it mostly one-handed, but he didn’t want to put down his lightsaber and leave himself in the dark. So, in the dim light of his saber, he devoured the ration bar with an almost-pleasure that he had never expected from such a tasteless food. Blinking at the empty wrapper, he was disturbed both by the oddness of the experience and by the emptiness in his stomach. The ration bar, while somehow simultaneously delicious and tasteless, hadn’t helped at all; if anything, Obi-wan was hungrier than when he started eating.
“Something is wrong,” Obi-wan whispered.
“Wrong? What is wrong with hunger?” someone else asked in a language that Obi-wan had never heard before and should not have been able to understand.
Obi-wan spun around.
There was a figure standing there in tattered black robes. Their face was impossibly sunken, bones jutting out of their face. Withered tendrils hung from their hollow cheeks.
“I apologize, I didn’t hear you approach,” Obi-wan said, trying to hide his unease beneath a veneer of politeness.
“I have been here the whole time,” the figure shrugged. “But you did not answer my question.”
“What’s wrong with hunger?” Obi-wan repeated. He did not understand what was happening, but if his politeness was reciprocated and there was no danger, he was willing to humor the strange figure. “Well, nothing, in moderation. But I have eaten and my hunger has not abated. If hunger isn’t telling me to eat, then it is just pain, just suffering.”
The stranger hummed and nodded slowly.
“A fair answer, I suppose,” they accepted. “I have a deal for you: name another hunger that lasts longer, and the Temple of Hunger will honor that hunger instead of your hunger for food.”
Obi-wan raised his eyebrows. The stranger’s offer answered some questions but raised others. Like, how did an ancient temple have the power to affect people like this, both at the time of its construction and so many year later?
The offer itself was an odd one, but Obi-wan suspected it was necessary if he wanted to stay in the temple. After all, he needed his hunger for food to tell him when to eat and how much. Loosing that ability would potentially cause some major health issues, especially if he under-ate. But hunger of the metaphorical sort was not the Jedi way. Peace, not emotion; serenity, not passion.
But that gave Obi-wan an idea, one that he thought was quite clever.
“I hunger to be a Jedi Knight,” Obi-wan stated clearly. He did not say that such a thing would mean that he hungered to not hunger, but he did note it.
“So you do,” the stranger agreed. “It is faint, but it is there. Honor that hunger, then.”
Obi-wan fell to his knees with a gasp, barely keeping a hold of his lightsaber and only light source.
Physically, he felt fine. The hunger no longer bothered him. He could feel the half-fullness of the ration bar and the faint snackishness behind it that ration bars always left him with.
But mentally, he felt very, very different. In his mind, he hungered with all his heart and he almost feared he would fall.
It felt deeply anchored and spiky and pulled at his mind agonizingly as his mind moved. The physical hunger had cried about the emptiness in his stomach, but the new hunger spoke of desire and ambition.
Obi-wan breathed through the pain and through a vision of all his crechemates congratulating him on his knighting. Then a vision of a Padawan, faceless and unformed, looking up at him and calling him Master Obi-wan, ignoring Master Qui-gon as they did so. Then there was a vision of a crowd, whispering that a Jedi had come to their world, all of them with their hopeful gazes on the lone figure of Obi-wan. The visions were beautiful and hammered home the hunger agonizingly. Obi-wan wanted to become a Jedi Knight so very badly. That achievement was far away, he knew, but it was far from impossible. He took solace in the knowledge that he would likely succeed at satisfying this hunger. Though that was only true, he realized, if he could control the hunger. If it controlled him, he would be doomed.
Forcing himself past the feelings, he looked up at the withered stranger, but found nothing. The figure had vanished as mysteriously as it had appeared. Once again, Obi-wan was alone in the dark and hungry temple.
Taking deep breaths to hide his discomfort, Obi-wan shifted into a more comfortable sitting position and closed his eyes. Still wrestling with his metaphorical hunger, Obi-wan settled in to meditate. He still did not enjoy it, but it was a helpful way to investigate and deal with strong feelings. That, and in the back of his mind, the hunger was clamoring for him to do something, anything, to move towards its goal, his goal, of being a Jedi Knight. The Masters always said meditation was important, and now Obi-wan hoped that meditating would get him there sooner.
He meditated for hours, sometimes ignoring the hunger’s screaming, and at other times meditating on it. Time slipped by. He ate a ration bar. Meditated. Ate another. Meditated again. The sun had long since set when he rose and ventured to the entrance of the Temple of Hunger. He saw no signs of pursuit and couldn’t feel his pursuers anymore, no matter how hard he stretched himself. It was time to leave.
After nearly a day of meditating, often on the hunger, Obi-wan had grown to understand it to some extent. It was painful and unpleasant, but it could be useful. It could push him to train harder, to meditate more, to approach everything mindfully and with intention. The hunger was like a lightsaber, if one thought about it. A careful novice would be unlikely to burn themself. A careless novice almost certainly would. And, in the hands of someone trained – as Obi-wan counted himself – it could do real good.
But it was time to say goodbye to the temple and the hunger both. At least now Obi-wan wouldn’t have to deal with the discomfort and pain and un-Jedi-like feelings.
Obi-wan took a step out of the temple. Then another. And another. And a hundred steps more.
The hunger followed.
Unwavering.