"It's over Anakin, I have the high ground!". Obi wan exclaimed as he landed on the meter tall mound of volcanic soot and dried magma. He stood in a high crouch, panting hard. He was sweating profusely, and each breath of the searing hot air of Mustafar sent shocks of pain into his chest. All he wanted was for this to be over. To wake up in his room at the temple, and find that this was all nothing more than a bad dream. He would wake up and see his apprentice, and brother Anakin, his friends at the temple.

"You underestimate my power." A dark voice interrupted his thoughts. Obi wan fought back a wave of emotional pain as he looked down the bank to his former apprentice. Anakin stood on the small metal platform that he had leaped from just a moment earlier. Suspended above the molten rock, Anakin used the force to guide his vessel closer to the bank where Obi wan had jumped too. Standing straight, his pale blue lightsaber, held ignited in his robotic right hand.

His eyes burned with the yellow fire of the dark side, his voice dripping with pure hatred. It was a darkness that Obi wan had never even suspected lived within his apprentice. There were times when Anakin showed aggression, anger, even hate, namely for Dooku after severing his arm. Never however had Obi wan witnessed such rage, and vindictiveness from his friend. Obi wan knew Anakin. He knew the next move that would be made.

"Don't try it." He said, with genuine concern.

With a roar Anakin leapt from the platform, leaving to be engulfed in liquid fire as he summersaulted through the air towards his former master. Intending to flip over his master, and cut him in half the same way Darth Maul had been, Anakin twisted in air. His moment of triumph was at hand, at last the Jedi would pay for their betrayal of the republic. He would rush to the ship, Padme would be fine. He would convince her of the righteousness of his cause, and together, they would rule the galaxy. They would raise their child, and start a new Jedi order.

Vader's eyes snapped open. He was alone, floating in his bacta tank. His two shadow guards watching over him diligently, as was their duty. They made no sound however, nor did they move from their locations. They did naught but stand there peering into the nothingness in front of them. The only sound that could be heard was the sound of his inner respirator, attached to his face directly. A sense of grief and loss, seemed to overwhelm him. A sudden anguish that he could not control. Not for the things he had done, but for what he had lost in the process.

Vader writhed in his tank, allowing the sadness and loss to carry him away on their black waves of agony. All of it feeding into his power, sharpening the edges of his hatred, and strengthening his connection to the darkness. Vader's eyes opened again, and this time, peered through more than just the bacta. His eyes settled on the river of molten rock that his castle had been constructed next to. His gaze settled finally on a particular section of the bank, one with a meter high mound of rock and ash.

Black hate swelled in Vader's chest. Unabated by the Jedi restrictions that had so long held it at bay, it grew into a violent maelstrom of rage, spite and animosity. Such was the manifestation of his hate in the force, that his power in it fell upon the whole room like a shroud, causing his two force sensitive shadow guard to shift uneasily.

All of Vader's hate compressed, shrinking in volume, but losing none of its mass. It's potency increasing with every passing moment, cracks began to web their way across the glass of his tank. His hatred had focused now into a single red hot word, that summarily described rage.

Kenobi.