It’s hard to believe it has already been several years since I first set foot on the rugged landscapes of Koboh with Cal Kestis. Star Wars Jedi: Survivor refined everything I loved about its predecessor, delivering a deeply personal and often heart-wrenching saga that left me staring at the credits with a tangled mess of hope and dread. Now, sitting here in 2026, still without an official announcement for the next chapter, I find myself constantly revisiting the game’s ending, turning over every narrative thread that Respawn Entertainment has dangled before us. What could possibly come next for Cal, Merrin, and the crew of the Mantis? The foundation laid by Survivor is so rich with unresolved tension and fragile new beginnings that the sequel practically writes itself in my mind. I can’t help but wonder: are we truly ready to witness Cal’s darkest hour?

Will Cal Kestis finally embrace the darkness?

Throughout Jedi: Survivor, I watched Cal’s barely contained fury simmer beneath the surface. The flashbacks to his traumatic days during the Clone Wars, combined with the fresh betrayal by Bode Akuna and the brutal loss of two mentors in a single day, pushed him to a terrifying precipice. In the final act, unlocking abilities like the devastating embrace of the dark side’s slow-motion rage mode didn’t just feel empowering—it felt inevitable. I remember pressing those buttons and thinking, “This is what survival has cost him.” The narrative is no longer hinting at a struggle; it’s screaming for a resolution. Could the sequel force us to make choices that lead to a genuine dark side ending for Cal? I’d argue it’s not just a possibility but a narrative necessity. Watching a hero we’ve guided from a scared padawan on Bracca to a Jedi Knight on the edge crumble would be heartbreaking, but it would honor the tragedy that has defined his journey.

Kata Akuna: the child who might carry the future

When Bode’s daughter, Kata, hesitantly joined the Mantis crew at the game’s conclusion, I felt an immediate shift in the group’s dynamic. Here is a child who lost her father to the very chaos Cal helped create, yet she looks to him for safety. Given that Bode was a Jedi survivor himself, it’s almost guaranteed that Kata has inherited a strong connection to the Force. Is it paranoid of me to imagine Cal taking on the role of an unprepared and deeply conflicted mentor? The sequel could explore a time skip, perhaps five or six years, where Cal has been training Kata in secret on Tanalorr. But teaching a young Force-sensitive while wrestling with his own inner demons is a recipe for disaster—or perhaps redemption. I keep picturing a scene where Kata senses Cal’s anger for the first time and asks, “Are you going to leave too?” That emotional weight would ground the story in a way few Star Wars games have dared.

The romance that must not be forgotten

I’ll admit, I audibly cheered when Cal and Merrin finally shared that kiss on the cliff overlooking Jedha. Their connection, born on the haunted plains of Dathomir and tested by years of separation, feels earned. Merrin is not just a love interest; she’s the anchor that keeps Cal from drifting away entirely. Your browser does not support the video tag. I’ve played too many games where romances are teased and then sidelined by the next installment. If the sequel ignores their bond or treats it as a mere side note, it would betray one of the saga’s most compelling relationships. I want to see them navigate parenthood—whether as caregivers to Kata or something more—while facing the galaxy’s horrors as a united front. How do they balance a gentle touch when both are warriors forged in trauma?

Tanalorr: a sanctuary or a magnet for chaos?

Cal’s grand plan to turn Tanalorr into a safe haven for the Hidden Path felt like the first true glimpse of light in an otherwise oppressive narrative. By the time the Empire attacked their base, the urgency to relocate the scattered survivors of the Path became palpable. Given that Obi-Wan Kenobi canonically ties the Hidden Path to this very period, a sequel could open with the Path already established on Tanalorr, living in fragile peace. But peace is a fleeting illusion in this universe. I can almost guarantee that the Empire will eventually sniff out this hidden world. Perhaps we’ll face a new breed of Inquisitor, specifically trained to hunt Jedi and their sympathizers in such remote locations. The tension of defending a home you’ve built from scratch, only to watch it threatened by Star Destroyers hovering overhead, is exactly the kind of high-stakes storytelling I crave.

Saw Gerrera and the ghosts of abandoned alliances

One of my favorite unresolved threads is Cal’s strained and ultimately abandoned alliance with Saw Gerrera. If there’s one thing fans of The Clone Wars and Rebels know, it’s that Saw never forgets a betrayal, no matter how justified. I can easily envision a scenario where Saw learns of Tanalorr and decides that his partisans need the planet more than the Hidden Path. The conflict would be devastatingly personal, pitting Cal against a former ally who fights without restraint. Would Cal be forced to become the very thing he fears—a warrior who sees no line between defense and aggression—to protect those under his care? It’s the sort of morally grey clash that would test every lesson Cere and Cordova tried to impart.

What does the future hold for us?

As I sit here in 2026, constantly refreshing news feeds and dissecting every rumor, the silence from Respawn is both maddening and exciting. Star Wars Jedi: Survivor didn’t just set up a sequel; it handed us a ticking chronometer full of unresolved grief, budding hope, and a protagonist who is dangerously close to losing himself. The sequel needs to wrap up Cal’s struggle with the dark side, honor his romance with Merrin, confront the legacy of Kata Akuna, and defend Tanalorr from all comers. High expectations? Absolutely. But after two games that have refused to pull their punches, I believe we’re in for an emotional conclusion that will leave us talking for another decade. Until then, I’ll keep imagining the red flash of a saber blade igniting in the shadows of Tanalorr, and ask myself: who will be holding it when the horizon finally burns?