Fire.
That was all he could conjure in his mind. There was no room for cohesive thoughts amidst the agony his body was enduring. Every particle of his being screamed its rage, screamed its hatred of Obi-Wan, screamed for Padme-
Screamed for deliverance.
His eyes now only saw red; his mouth tasted like ash. He could feel his own life draining away, lost to the Force.
The Force.
He felt an unmistakable tremor pass through his body as he focused on his anguish, on his suffering, his wish for Obi-Wan to die the most painful of deaths at his hands, and he felt his mind pulse and settle into a murky melancholiness. He let the hatred fuel his connection to the Force, and the pain in his mind slightly receded. His eyelids closed shut and yet he could feel the intense heat, clawing its way into the sockets, his hands clenching into the volcanic soil, and-
Some part of his body was enduring the vilest of punishments, he could feel it gnawing at his essence, but his mind, his soul, was standing elsewhere.
He was in a large, dark expanse. Not the tiniest ray of light permeated the thick tapestry of gloom. He tried to put a step forward, and did so with great difficulty- something was dragging him into the floor, the floor that he could not see, that seemed to be comprised of… absolute nothingness.
And yet he felt no fear.
He tried to look upwards and instantly felt a searing pain in his eyelids- immediately forcing his head back down. He didn't care what was above. All he wanted was to see Padme.
He struggled to take another step, and looked around him. There was nothing, all bleak, unyielding, and yet he saw a pinprick of light pierce his vision. It hurt his eyes, but not with nearly the same intensity as before. It somehow felt comforting at the same time.
He closed his eyes and felt some relief. He opened them, and at once his eyes began to throb with intense pain. He gasped, dropping to his knee, shutting his eyes with his palms. He felt a dull ache in his back, pinpricks on his limbs, but he ignored the pain.
"Ani..."
Her voice…?! He sharply looked up again in pure shock, only for his eyes to burst into agony. He immediately dropped to the floor, sprawled, waiting for the pain to subside, all the pain now irrelevant. Padme was here, they were safe-
"Look at what you've done."
He couldn't look up. He knew that now. So he brought himself to his knees, gazing down at the nothingness beneath him, struggling against bringing his face to hers, hugging her, kissing her, living in her embrace…
"Padme… you're here…you're safe..."
"Obi-Wan was your friend, Ani. You know that. We all were."
He didn't understand why she spoke of such irrelevant issues. They were both together, and that was all that mattered! Why couldn't she-
"I was."
As soon as it had come, the voice disappeared. A warmth seemed to leave the cavernous infinity. He shot up to his feet, and anguish filled him when he realized that he didn't feel the pain in his eyelids.
"PADME? PADME!"
He whipped his head around, searching for her, yet suddenly he could not see, he could not hear, he could not feel, pain began to crawl over his limbs and he keeled to the floor, groaning not in agony but in loss…
His eyelids shot open, encountering harsh, artificial light. A strange visor was lowering itself on his face. He attempted to move his arms, and felt them strapped to a metal surface. The helm encompassed his face, and he felt it snap into a locking mechanism around his neck with a click. He swallowed, and the action immediately felt rough, like the sands of Tatooine: a detestable feeling. It was nothing compared to the fires.
He felt the metal surface raise him with a jolt, and his new filtered vision slowly gave way to what seemed to be a medical chamber. His mind felt odd: fractured, and yet he collected himself at the sight of his Master.
At the sound of his voice, he asked for Padme. Palpatine's face seemed to have some hint of glee in telling him what had transpired. Anger cleaved through his head, and his vision turned red as gave himself up to the Force, annihilating the droids, the walls, the bottles, the instruments that had enslaved him to this machination. To his failure.