It all happened so fast. Obi-Wan doesn’t really know what it was. All he knows is that the Force had pulled him backward, out of the way, before the blast wave had the chance to hit him.
Darkness coiled tightly around him like a protective cocoon, hissing angrily at the offending force of the explosion and pushing it back, away from him, so the wave of the flame washed over him, never touching his skin, and he watched, as if in slow motion, how the ceiling of the Council Chamber tumbled down.
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"No!” he shouts but doesn’t hear his own voice – only the pain echoing through the Force.
Somebody’s arms encircle his waist, holding him back, pulling him away.
“No! Let me go! I must help…” Obi-Wan tries to wriggle out of the grip, but the hold on him is secure.
“No, Master! Please!”
Slow and disoriented, Obi-Wan barely registers that it is Anakin’s voice pleading into his ear over the high-pitched ringing in his head. “They are gone. There is nothing you can do for them.”
“No, I must try! Let go!” Obi-Wan urges frantically, kicking and twisting in his Padawan’s arms, but Anakin doesn’t budge.
“Master, the tower is going to collapse. We gotta go! Please!” he tries to reason, his voice strained with urgency and despair, but then he probably sees that Obi-Wan is too shocked to listen to him because he just grabs him tighter and pushes with the Force, throwing them both out of the shattered window...
They are falling in the chaos of their billowing tunics, Anakin’s embrace holding Obi-Wan securely, tucking him safely into his body like the most precious fragile thing, while their Light and Darkness swirl around them, spreading like two wings – black and white – eager to assist and break their fall.
Above them, the remnants of the Council Tower crumble with a sharp cracking sound when the structure snaps in half in the middle like a broken sword. And they watch it, having landed safely on the roof of the Temple, they watch it fall and shatter to dust… As though the Force abandoned it as soon as Obi-Wan’s faith did.
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“No, no, no. It can’t be. It can’t be...” the Jedi keeps whispering in shock and disbelief as he falls to his knees, no longer held back or propped up by Anakin’s arms.
Anakin is standing beside him, his gaze averted from his Master’s grief, letting him mourn his loss for a moment.
The sirens are still blaring in the wailing wind. The remaining towers are burning like torches, the ash swirling in the air and falling down like snow, landing beautifully into the auburn fire of Obi-Wan Kenobi’s hair.
A crown of sorrow.
Who could have thought the prophecy would come to life so soon? What seemed like an improbable, distant future just a few days ago is a terrible reality now.
A sudden gust of wind – and the once azure banner of the Jedi Order is ripped off the central tower and thrown down. It falls to the ground at Anakin’s feet, torn and smoldering at the edges.
It’s all over for the Jedi: their High Council is gone, and the Order is no more.
Anakin picks up the fine, silver-embroidered fabric. Ruined now.
And, frankly, Anakin couldn’t care less, but the pain and suffering of the other Jedi dying somewhere under the debris of the burning Temple are suffusing the Force, oily, and sticky, and impossible to shake off.
Anakin swears under his breath and sends his Darkness to shield his Master from it, bending down to drape the torn banner around the Jedi’s shaking shoulders. An illusion of comfort.
The Darkness hums contently, eagerly wrapping around its beloved and caressing him with its soothing touch.
Why are you mourning the Councilors, my sweet Jedi? Why are you blaming yourself? Weren’t you ready to let them die just a few minutes ago? Didn’t you want me to kill them? You know they deserved it, so why are you still sad that they are gone? How can you have compassion for those who had none for you or your Little Ani?
No, don’t weep over the dead, my darling. They were not your brothers and sisters. You are the only child of the Light. You are special. And you are the only one who matters. You are perfect. Precious. You were born for me to adore and protect. I won’t let any harm come to you. You will be safe with me. Always. Always…
Anakin’s Darkness is cooing gently, the sweet little nothings pouring like honey all around his Master in the Force, but Anakin sees that the Jedi’s eyes are still empty – glassy with devastating grief.
Anakin blinks, shifting nervously from one foot to the other. He doesn’t know what else to do to stop his Master from feeling what he is feeling because Anakin himself doesn’t feel anything. Not the pain. Not the sorrow. Nothing.
Pity, sympathy, empathy – the three steps leading to compassion so highly praised by the Jedi.
Step one – to acknowledge someone’s suffering.
Step two – to care about it.
Step three – to feel it as though it were your own.
And then, if you also want to do something to relieve that suffering – then it’s finally compassion.
That’s all well and good in theory. In reality though…
In reality, Anakin had to learn all that by heart, drill it again and again, to at least know the concept even if he can’t actually do any of it. Can’t actually feel any of it.
What “positive” feelings he has for other people are nothing but small reflections of his Master’s emotions – little popup hints telling him that he should copy the Jedi’s reaction and act upset, or serious, or interested. He has been practicing a lot, and now if he really needs, he can pretend that he feels all that too. But nothing as catastrophic as what his Master is feeling now – that Anakin can’t imitate for the life of him. Because no matter how hard he tries, he doesn’t understand how it is even possible to care about anyone other than Obi-Wan Kenobi. Only he can elicit any emotional response from him at all, and only for him Anakin’s feelings spill out, wild and uncontrollable. Truly disastrous.
And even though consciously Anakin does realize that right now his Master is very, very distressed and needs someone who can sympathize with his grief, he still doesn’t know how to fake an appropriate emotional response to all the deaths around them, and it, in turn, makes him distressed too.
Anakin takes a deep breath, willing his panic to go the kriff away. He doesn’t have time for this bantha fodder! He needs to be focused, dammit! He needs to protect his Master, now more than ever. Because he is clearly too consumed by his sorrow to be thinking straight.
Right. Right...
Anakin reaches out to try and pull his Master’s hunched, mournful figure up from the ground, cooing gently, as if talking to a child, “We have to go, Master. It’s not safe here. And there is nothing here for us anymore. The Order has fallen, just like you predicted. It’s their own fault they didn’t want to listen to you.”
“No!” The Jedi pushes Anakin’s hands away, sudden anger filling the void of his gaze. “The Temple might be lost, but who says that one Sith Lord is more powerful than the entire Jedi Order?”
He lowers his head, hitting the ground with his open palm in stubborn determination.
“I refuse to accept that. The Order lives as long as even a single Jedi lives. And renegade or not, I am a Jedi.”
His mouth agape, Anakin watches in awe how his Master rises gracefully from his knees, some unknown, wild fire blazing in his eyes and the desecrated banner billowing ominously around him in the wind.
Even stripped of his traditional Jedi attire, dressed only in simple leggings and a tunic, he stands with the magnificence of a king, wearing his faith like impenetrable armor.
Backlit by the flashes of the glowing sky, his aura is crimson like the spilled blood of the murdered Jedi.
An avenging angel, both beautiful and terrifying in his wrath, he closes his eyes, submerging fully into the Force, his Light spreading through it in all directions like a blast wave – a warning signal for all the remaining Jedi scattered across the Galaxy.
“This is Master Obi-Wan Kenobi. I regret to report that both our old Jedi Order and the Republic have fallen, with the dark shadow of the Sith rising to take their place."
Anakin listens to his Master’s words thundering throughout the Force, and his skin crawls. Despite the contents of the message, it is still truly magical to witness the famous Negotiator weave the gems of words into the fabric of the Force itself, interlacing and binding thousands of souls and minds together.
“This message is a warning and a reminder for any surviving Jedi: trust in the Force. Do not return to the Temple. That time has passed, and our future is uncertain."
The Jedi’s voice almost breaks with grief when he lowers his head, tears glistening in his eyes.
He clears his throat and speaks again, even though he looks as if it is causing him almost physical pain.
“We will each be challenged: our trust, our faith, our friendships. But we must persevere and, in time, I believe a new hope will emerge."
Obeying a pull of the Force, a lightsaber emerges from the debris and springs into Obi-Wan Kenobi’s hand, someone’s cerulean blade hissing to life even after her owner’s death.
“May the Force be with you. Always."
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“How did you manage to get out of your cell?” his Master inquires absentmindedly, rushing along the Temple’s corridor, making Anakin almost run after him to keep up.
“Wasn’t a problem, Master. It’s chaos out there,” Anakin explains, out of breath, throwing a tentative look at the Jedi, as if afraid that he might suddenly do something rash and dangerous – something Anakin himself would do in a situation like this. But his Master is not like him. He is everything Anakin is not. Everything Anakin can never ever be.
“We need to find you a lightsaber,” the Jedi says absently again, deep in thought but calm and collected, all put together and not at all as shocked and broken as he was just a few moments ago. It gives Anakin a strange, uneasy feeling that makes his skin crawl, as if in anticipation of a looming catastrophe.
Anakin shakes his head, berating himself for being stupid and ridiculous instead of concentrating on the problem at hand.
“Um... Well...” Anakin stutters, making his Master stop mid-stride and whirl around to look at him in suspicion.
“I kinda found one already, Master,” Anakin hurries to explain. “But you’re not gonna like it.”
Under his Master’s inquisitive gaze, Anakin takes the hilt of the first lightsaber he could grab in the rush of his escape out of his high boot and turns it on, lowering his head and averting his face.
The blade cuts through the dusty twilight of the corridor. Angry red.
“It’s Dooku’s saber,” Anakin clarifies needlessly, still not looking up, as if in shame.
“Of course it is.” Master looks away with a sigh too, as though it is hurting his eyes to see his Padawan’s features sharpened by the crimson glow of a Sith’s blade.
He chuckles humorlessly. “Oh well, seems only fitting.”
“General Kenobi! Commander Skywalker!” Cody rushes towards the Jedi across the main hall.
“Commander Cody.”
Skywalker scowls as his Master greets him, the usual pleasant smile on his lips despite everything that’s happening.
“Please report our current situation.”
“A few enemy fighters have launched an airstrike on the Temple, sir. How they managed to get past Coruscant’s defenses is still unclear. The Temple’s structure has sustained severe damage, but the roof will hold for now,” Cody reports immediately. “What will be the orders, General?”
“First things first. Close the gate. Raise the shields,” the Jedi tells him, as calm and serene as ever.
“Yes, sir!” Cody nods, immediately activating his comlink and relaying the order.
“How many troops do we have?” the General asks.
“Only the Open Circle Armada is currently at the Temple, sir,” Cody answers solemnly.
“Ah, yes.” Kenobi nods, the corners of his mouth rising slightly. “You must have been grounded by the Council after I took off to Korriban, huh?”
“Indeed, General.” Cody nods with a little mischievous grin too, and Skywalker throws him a warning glare.
Flirt back at him again, and I will kill you.
Having recognized it, Cody hurriedly takes a step back.
“What about the losses?” the Jedi Master asks, his voice carefully blank.
“There are many casualties within the Temple, sir,” Cody says carefully, as if expecting the General to lash out in anger, but Obi-Wan Kenobi is nothing like his spitfire Padawan. He closes his eyes for a second, his expression pained, but nods, indicating that he is ready to proceed.
“On the bright side,” Cody continues tentatively, having looked at Skywalker for permission and having gotten a nod, “we are receiving transmissions from thousands of Jedi all over the Galaxy, promising to return to protect the Temple immediately, so we only need to hold on until the reinforcements arrive...”
Cody’s hopeful voice falters when he sees the General’s face contort, as if in sudden sharp pain. Skywalker clenches his jaw.
“Idiots!” he mutters under his breath and looks at his Master with his eyes almost pleading. For what, Cody doesn’t know. All he knows is that the General has suddenly paled and looks as though he is about to faint.
Cody dashes to catch him, but the Skywalker boy is already there, his arm wrapping protectively around his Master’s waist.
“It’s okay, Master. It’s not your fault. You’ve done everything you could to warn them. They are all just dumb. Brave and dumb,” Skywalker croons softly – so softly – despite the harshness of his words.
“Sir, I don’t understand–” Cody tries, but Skywalker just barks out, turning to him in a startling movement, “the Jedi must stay away from Coruscant, or they will walk into a trap and die!”
Now it’s Cody’s turn to feel sick and lightheaded.
“I–” he stutters. “General, what do we–”
“Contact the Clone Commanders of all the GAR fleets. Tell them to stop their Jedi Generals from coming back to Coruscant.” Kenobi’s voice is steady now, and he doesn’t look like death anymore, but his pale hand is still squeezing his Padawan’s arm in what looks like a bruising grip, and the Jedi boy doesn’t seem to mind at all. On the contrary – he looks almost happy as he covers his Master’s hand with his own in a reassuring gesture.
“Tell them to shoot if they have to,” he says to Cody darkly. And having noticed Cody’s terrified expression, the General rolls his eyes, a hint of amusement in his voice as he clarifies instead of his Padawan, “Anakin meant stun mode only. Obviously.”
Skywalker only smirks with a half-shrug, and Cody isn’t entirely sure that that is what he actually meant.
“Search the Temple for survivors. Get the wounded to the Halls of Healing. Gather everyone who can fight in the main hall.” The General’s voice sharpens around the orders in the way Cody has never heard before. “We won’t be able to evacuate now, not without leaving the Archives to the enemy, so we must coordinate our forces before the ground assault and try to fight them off.”
“The ground assault, sir?” Cody frowns. “Do you think the clankers will actually siege the Temple?”
“Oh, but of course they will,” the Jedi answers as if it goes without saying.
“But, General…” Cody’s frown only deepens. “The attackers only succeeded because no one expected them. But surely, now they won’t dare send troops, not into the middle of the galactic capital. Now that everyone is on high alert, they won’t be able to get through the planetary shields anyway.”
“They already have, Commander,” the General states coldly. “And don’t fool yourself, thinking it was an accident that they managed to slip through our defenses. Someone with the highest level of clearance has let them in.”
“What?!” Cody exclaims in unison with Skywalker.
“But I thought they had been sent by the Sith Lord, Master.” The General’s Padawan frowns in confusion.
“And they were.” The Jedi tilts his head in confirmation and turns to walk away, leaving his angry boy and Cody to stare after him, their mouths agape.
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After a long pause, the Clone Commander is the first to recover. He turns to leave too, but Anakin catches his forearm.
“Commander Cody,” he addresses the clone quietly. “A word, please.”
“Of course, sir.” Cody nods firmly, but his expression is apprehensive.
Anakin doesn’t care.
“I’ve already spoken to my own battalion, and now I want you to understand something and tell your men as well,” he starts without preamble.
“Sir?” Cody frowns in confusion.
“Despite appearances, the General can be as reckless as I am,” Anakin confesses with a sigh, as if it actually pains him to admit that. “He’s just very calm about it. But at some point, perhaps even today, you might have to choose between executing his orders and saving his life.”
Anakin pauses for a second, taking in the clone’s terrified expression when the idea dawns on him.
“And if it comes down to it, Commander,” Anakin continues with emphasis, “I want you to pick him. No matter how many other lives are at stake. Choose him. Without a second thought. Over millions if you have to. Because no one – not a single person in the world – is as important as he is. If he dies, the Galaxy dies too. Am I clear?”
Anakin knows his eyes must be glistening with the Sith gold as he makes his threat, but he doesn’t care. He crosses his arms on his chest, expecting Cody to object or try to refuse, but the clone only nods curtly.
“Understood, sir. Protect General Kenobi at all costs.”
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The Sith Lord’s army attacks at sunset. Just like his Master predicted. The dome of the sky shatters into a million of flaming pieces as they fire at the deflector shield. A swarm of Jedi starfighters rises up to meet them.
Anakin knows, the best pilot in the Galaxy, he should be up there with them, leading the remnants of the Golden Squadron. But his mission is not to fight for the Temple – it’s to protect his Master. So instead, he tugs the cowl of the dark cloak Rex has found for him over his head to cover up the way his eyes are glowing maliciously, blood-thirsty and eager to fight.
Accompanied only by a small squad of clone troopers, his obsidian silhouette ominously backlit by the lights of the Temple, Anakin marches outside its gates and down its steps into the dark. To meet the enemy.
May the Force be with you, Ani.
His Master’s blessing washes over him in the Force in a gentle, soothing wave, sparkling all over his skin like a scattering of stars.
Anakin doesn’t say it back. There is no need: the Force is always with Obi-Wan Kenobi. And if he keeps his faith in it, the Light of the Jedi will prevail over the Dark Side once again.
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“May the Force be with us!” The battle cry echoes across the halls of the Temple, taken up and carried along by dozens of voices.
The shooting stars of blaster fire and the sizzling heat of Jedi blades – the two waves clash together and break, splattering among the walls of the Temple.
Obi-Wan Kenobi had seen it long before it even happened, but he has decided to defy fate anyway.
It’s just as Anakin has always feared: his Master has decided to die, having known nothing in his life – no love, no passion, no fear – nothing but duty. Decided to fight his last battle among the cold, indifferent ruins of the Jedi Temple.
His fingers still clenched around the torn fabric of the Jedi banner, he is smiling, light-hearted and heedless, ready to follow the voices that are calling for him through the Force and step over the last threshold into its infinity. Leaving the Temple forever. Staying in the Temple forever…
But Anakin will not let it happen. He will not let that cursed banner turn red in his Master’s grip as he presses it to his chest one last time. He will not allow him to become a martyr for the Order that calls him a renegade. He will not let Obi-Wan Kenobi become one with the Force.
No, his Master is supposed to be one with him! No one else can have him. Not even the Force.
For once, he isn’t the impatient, reckless one. For once, his Master might actually need his protection. And he is allowed not to hold back – to do whatever it takes to win this battle for the Jedi.
He sees fear in the others’ eyes when they fight beside him. They are afraid he might turn against them next. The crimson blade is not exactly helping either. But Anakin doesn’t care. They should be afraid. The stupid little Jedi, so lost without their Council that they are willing to fight side by side even with a Sith. Although, of course, as long as they follow Obi-Wan Kenobi’s orders as he leads them into battle, they have nothing to fear from him. Anakin Skywalker is just a blade in his Master’s hands.
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High are the walls of the Jedi Temple. As high as the price of arrogance – of thinking that the Force will always be with them, will always light their way and help them in their time of need just because they are the Jedi, its faithful warriors.
Obi-Wan slumps to the floor, someone else’s lightsaber falling out of his unclenched hand and bouncing away.
He is victorious again. But at what cost?
The blood painting the steps of the Temple is ruby red – the color of pain and rage. And it’s his pride that is to blame.
Dozens of clones and Jedi have given their lives to protect something that only shines on the outside but is dead and rotten on the inside. The Temple that has nothing holy anymore. The Order that can ask a Master to kill their own Padawan as proof of loyalty...
Was that legacy really worth protecting?
He could have just left. He could have abandoned the Temple. But no. He had to be brave. He had to borrow his Padawan’s flair for drama and accept the battle, even though the odds were so clearly not in their favor. All because he had faith. He believed that the Force had led him to that moment, had chosen him to save his brothers and sisters, exchanging his life for all of theirs. He thought the Force would guide its knights and spare their lives in the battle they were fighting in its name. He wanted to believe.
Out of the two gifts the Force had given him, out of the two ways – he chose the hard one. The scary one. The one where there was blood seeping through his Jedi robes out of the hole in his chest. But he wasn’t afraid to give his life to let all the other Jedi escape the Sith Lord’s trap. He chose the Light Side. He chose martyrdom. But it’s not him who has turned out to be the martyr in the end. It’s the others. Those who stood bravely with him among the burning ruins of their Temple.
Two hundred twelve of them are dead now.
Two hundred twelve are a small price to pay to save thousands.
Only two hundred twelve lives – and the Light Side has won.
Two hundred twelve lives...
Perhaps, he should have chosen the Dark crown after all.
But he hasn’t. He hasn’t, and now, his soul is dying under the burden of guilt, and he does the only thing he knows – he prays to the Force. Fervently. Angrily. Demanding answers.
Tell me, Force, who will answer for the deaths of those who stood bravely under your banners? Where were you when your army prayed to you in haste before the battle? Did you march with us? Were you with us when we fought for your sacred Temple? Answer me, Force! Why are you silent?
But there is no answer. Because neither the Daughter of Light nor Anakin’s suave Darkness has ever promised to be with all the Jedi. Only with him alone.
Always. Always.
And so, he is alive and they are dead, and someone is going to answer for that, even though revenge is not the Jedi way.
Fuck the Jedi way.
Obi-Wan clenches his teeth and reaches out through the Force.
“Anakin! Come to me, dear. We have things to do.”
Yes, he definitely should have chosen the Dark crown.