Night fell and day came, and when the sun rose hidden by low clouds Jaina Solo Fel was still alive.

Kol Skywalker had spent all of that previous night lying in bed, sleepless and anxious. Nat and some of the others had taken turns speaking with Jaina alone, but Kol had not. It had been hard enough just to follow his mother into the chamber. It would be harder still to look into the eyes of the woman who'd given her life up for him. Davek and his family's arrival had made her passing all the more real, and the night afterward he'd turned and shuddered under his sheets, afraid she'd be gone in the morning. He was terrified to talk to her but he knew, even through fear, that he'd regret missing the chance to say goodbye.

Besides, he told himself, Jedi didn't give in to fear. He wasn't a Jedi yet- that was painfully clear- but he had to act like one, especially now.

So, once the Middle Distance had settled into dim daytime, Kol went to Jaina's damutek. He was a little surprised to find Empress Marasiah standing over her and talking. Kol barely knew the woman but something in her reminded him of his great-aunt.

When she saw Kol step through the door, Marasiah told Jaina, "He's here."

"Vitor?" Jaina asked.

"No," Kol said meekly and stepped around for her to see him.

She was propped up on the bed and more alert than he'd expected. Her tired face grew a little brighter when she saw him. "I'm glad you came."

"I'll leave you two for now," Marasiah said and slipped outside.

Kol froze two steps away from his great-aunt's bedside. At first all the words clogged in his throat. Then they came gushing out. "I'm so sorry. I never should have run after him, I was stupid, I-"

"Kol, it's all right," Jaina said.

The tears were coming and the boy looked down. "N-No. It's all because of me that you're… you're…" It was too hard to say.

"Come here," Jaina said gently. She laid a hand on the edge of the bed for him to take.

Kol shuffled two steps forward and squeezed it. She squeezed back but her grip was so weak.

"This is… not your fault," Jaina insisted. "This was my gift. To you."

Kol didn't trust himself to speak so he sniffled and nodded.

"You have many more years left than I do…. And it's almost… tradition."

"Tradition?"

"Anakin gave his life for Uncle Luke. Your grandpa gave it for your mom. Skywalkers give everything for Skywalkers."

"You're a Skywalker too," Kol said. "You've always been one. The best."

"Thanks." Jaina squeezed his hand a little. "My time was… almost gone anyway, and you… You'll be a great Jedi. I've seen it."

"Seen it?"

"Just a little." She smiled weakly. "I saw you older. Strong, brave, handsome. And with great red hair like your grandpa."

Kol didn't know why, but he started to cry again. "I just wish… I can be as brave as you. And if I have to make a sacrifice-"

"I hope you don't."

"But if I do… I just want to be brave."

"You already are," she told him. "Just… be a little less reckless."

Apologies spilled out again. "I know. If I'd just-"

"No, Kol. We're done with that." She shook her head. "What you did… That project down there… You and Nei Rin… That can bring so much good. For everyone. It's worth protecting."

"I will," he nodded firmly. It was a duty he couldn't shirk now.

"Then keep at it." She gave his hand one more squeeze. "The future… is in your hands now."

-{}-

After her son was done, it was Jade's turn. When she sat down on the stool beside Jaina's bed she did her best to sound conversational.

"So," she asked, "How did it go?"

"Fine." Jaina's smile was tired. "You've got… good kids."

"Thanks. You too."

Jaina rolled her head on the pillow to look into Jade's eyes. She seemed more alert than yesterday, and Jade prayed her strength held up until her last grandchild arrived. "What do you really want to talk about, Jade?"

Still perceptive, too. Jade sighed. "I wanted to make sure Kol is okay."

"He will be. He'll need… time."

"I know." Jade leaned forward, elbows on knees. She'd felt like a weight was bowing her shoulders ever since Terrid surrendered to her at Orelon. "I heard you made a request of your sons."

"A suggestion."

"Pretty much the same thing, isn't it? Have they… agreed?"

"I think… they're with Allana now. Talking. But you came for… something else."

All too perceptive. "I guess we should have all seen this coming. Maybe I did. What happened on Hapes forty years ago… defined my life, in many ways. I think I could handle what's ahead if it weren't for Terrid."

"Wharn," Jaina said.

"He's not the same boy you remember. Not at all. The Sith beat all the goodness out of him and made him into one of their own. All that's left is spite."

"But you'll take him… with you?"

"Nobody else knows the inside of the Sith base on Shedu Maad. We'll need to get some other guide for the Fountain Palace on Hapes. We've barely thought about that part."

"Davek will help. And his… Knights."

"Do you think cooperating on Hapes can bring the Jedi and the Imperial Knights back together?"

"I don't know. But I can hope." Jaina managed a tired smile. "That's not what worries you. Is it?"

"No," Jade sighed. "I don't trust him. I don't like him. But…"

"What?"

"I pity him. I remember what he could have been."

"So do I," Jaina whispered sadly.

"What I feel doesn't matter, though." Jade shook her head. She was talking to herself as much as her aunt. "Terrid is what Terrid is. I'm not hoping to redeem him… I'm just wondering if he might still have a role to play. If he might help the Light, despite himself."

When Jaina gave no reply, Jade looked up and saw the old woman had closed her eyes. She looked like she'd fallen back asleep. Her chest was still rising and falling with breath, very slowly. Jade reached across the bed and took her hand.

She squeezed and Jaina's stirred. Her eyelids fluttered; it seemed to take effort to keep them open.

"I'm sorry." Jade drew her hand back.

"No…" said Jaina. "I was just… tired. I need help to stay awake."

Jade swallowed and wondered how much longer she'd last. "I was just… thinking out loud."

"I heard you." Jaina paused a moment to think, this time with eyes open and staring at the ceiling. "I'm not going to tell you to trust Terrid. Or try to redeem him… Though you'd be surprised who can be saved. I was… But still… you two keep getting drawn together… again and again. Unlikely… isn't it?"

"You think the Force is already at work?"

"It always is. Always. Jedi have to… trust it."

Jade thought back to that gaunt blue face, the blank red eyes that somehow communicated so much hate. "It's hard."

"You're telling me," Jaina shook slightly.

"I know you've been through so much, Aunt Jaina."

"Not that. That's all… in the past. What happens next… for me… I have to trust the Force too."

Jade felt something from her aunt, something she'd rarely found in Jaina and had, naively, not expected to feel now. It was fear. And she knew it wasn't the act of dying that worried Jaina but the uncertainty of what came after. Even for Jedi, death was a terrifying unknown.

Jade was less scared that most. Her mother's painful death had traumatized her; her father's brave sacrifice had strengthened her. Every time she dropped deeply in the Force she could feel his essence in the power that she drew. He was lost, erased from this life forever, but he wasn't gone.

"It's not the end," Jade squeezed her hand. "It's just… a transition into something else. For a Jedi like you, for someone so strong, who'd done so much, you can never pass away."

"See. Trust." Jaina smiled and faintly squeezed back. "That wasn't so hard… was it?"

-{}-

For this conversation they'd retreated to the landing field and climbed aboard Jade Shadow. They gathered in the ship's main hold: Davek, Marasiah, Vitor and Roan watched as Allana brought the holo-projector to life and summoned a map of the Hapes cluster.

"According to Darth Terrid," she said, "Most of the Sith have occupied the former Jedi academy on Shedu Maad. We can expect Queen Serissa to be on Hapes."

"How much can you trust what this Sith tells you?" asked Marasiah.

"Jade assures us he hasn't told lies," Allana said diplomatically.

"But can you trust this isn't all part of a trap?" pressed Davek.

"If it is, it's not of Terrid's making."

"That's not the reassurance I was hoping for."

"We've suspected the Sith had a presence in Hapes for decades. We didn't know the full extent until he told us. There's no reason to doubt Darth Krayt is on Shedu Maad, or that Queen Serissa is one of his Sith Lords. The Jedi and the Hapan exiles are going to take action no matter what. Assistance from the Empire could determine whether we succeed. Your Majesty."

Roan, who'd sitting on a side bench with his brother and watching, saw his father and Allana exchange long, hard looks. This had passed beyond a family conversation. They were talking monarch to monarch, emperor to queen, considering what this action would mean for both their peoples.

"The Imperial navy is several times larger than the Hapans," Davek said, "But if what you've said is true, Serissa has an army of fanatics willing to die for her."

"She's used terror and violence to create an ultra-loyal officer corps. Without their leader, they'd be much less dangerous."

"From what you're saying, you'd need our fleet to even get to Hapes."

Allana nodded grimly. "It will have heavy defenses. That's why a fleet on our side is critical. But in some ways Shedu Maad is worse."

She tapped a button on the holo-projector and the map zoomed in on the Maad system. She pointed out several gas giants, an abandoned space station, one habitable planet, and an impressive collection of navigational hazards, most notably a vast field of ice particles that allowed access to Shedu Maad only through a few narrow passages.

"You can see why the Jedi chose this place as a hideout initially," Allana said.

Davek's eyes narrowed. Roan could tell his father was calculating tactical possibilities. "Do you want the planet destroyed from orbit?"

"Darth Terrid tells us the Sith complex has military-grade shields and defenses."

"Not enough to hold back an entire siege force," Davek muttered, like he was already putting together a plan. Roan was surprised. The Empire had just finished one slog of a war and his father was readying to plunge them into another. Roan understood that he felt he owed it to his mother, but it was still an uncharacteristically rash act.

"Lowbacca is in a conversation now with K'Kruhk and the other Masters on Ossus," Allana said. "Their preferred plan is to go down to Shedu Maad and see what's there for themselves."

"Darth Krayt," Marasiah said simply.

"We want to make sure we've destroyed him this time," Allana said.

Roan had heard the story of this long-lived Sith Lord, who'd survived the Clone Wars, the Empire, the Yuuzhan Vong War, and a battle with his grandmother on this very world. It all beggared belief, but then, Roan had never faced a Sith Lord himself. Unlike Vitor and his mother, he'd never experienced their power firsthand.

As he watched his father's thoughtful face, Roan realized that was about to change.

"What about the Imperial Knights?" he asked. "What would our part be?"

He looked from his father to his mother to Allana. It was Marasiah who said, "The Imperial Knights have always been the Empire's vanguard. And if our real enemy is the Sith, then it's all the more important we act."

"Does that mean we rejoin the Jedi?" Vitor asked with a slight tremble in his voice.

It was the first thing he'd said in hours. Since their reunion, Roan's older brother had hardly spoken at all. He seemed anxious, distracted, for what reason Roan didn't know. It wasn't mere grief for their dying grandmother. Something had been wrong with Vitor ever since the storehouse raid on Lantilles. Roan had gently prodded his brother and been quietly rebuffed. He told himself that once Jaina had passed, that dreaded and awaited moment over, he'd pin Vitor down and find out what was really going on.

"The Imperial Knights," Davek said. "Are a critical piece of what our Empire is. You're not just our vanguard, you're our symbol and our anchor." He looked at Allana. "We're sorry to disappoint the Grand Master, but we can't allow our Knights to simply… merge with the Jedi."

Allana seemed to have expected that. "All we're asking for is cooperation."

They were both using a royal we, Roan thought. Even in a time of personal crisis they both retained their royal dignity. He admired that.

"Cooperation is possible," his father allowed. "The Sith are our enemy just like they are yours. The Knights will join your strike teams."

"Shedu Maad and Hapes?"

He nodded. "What kind of attack are you planning on Hapes?"

"We'll remove the queen. That means going to the Fountain Palace." She tapped the holo again and brought up a rotating view of a very fine stone building with multiple domes and towers clustered together. It was situation on a hilltop and one side sloped toward an elegant city; the other plunged down a cliff into an ocean.

"This is a file image," Allana said, faintly wistful as she looked at the place where she'd grown up but hadn't seen in almost forty years. "Unfortunately, our best knowledge on its insides is decades out of date. We're looking into how we can remedy that."

"What about the loyalists you rescued from Orelon?" asked Marasiah.

Allana shook her head. "The few nobles we did manage to save kept holdings on other planets. They've only ever been visitors to the Fountain Palace."

Roan's mouth slipped open, then snapped shut. He was about to tell Allana that wasn't true, that Elliah Chalk and her brother had grown up there and even if their knowledge was a little out-of-date it was the best available. He hesitated because knew those two had been through so much trauma already and didn't want to see them go through more, Elliah especially. Still, their guidance might be necessary. Maybe later he'd bring it up, if his parents really did commit their Knights to this mad mission.

"Our goal is to reach to queen," said Marasiah. "Do we kill her?"

Allana nodded gravely and tapped the holo-projector again. The new image was a head-and-shoulders shot of a very regal, very attractive woman with night-black hair. Roan had never realized Serissa was so young, probably just a little older than Vitor. He felt his brother tense beside him and looked askance to see his face had gone paler than before. He trembled, very slightly. Roan sent him a gentle probe in the Force but he clammed up entirely.

"She's too dangerous to be taken alive," Allana was saying, "We've been told there are small children being trained by the Sith on Shedu Maad. One reason we'd like to go down there is to try and rescue them. They don't deserve to die because of who their masters are. As for Hapes, the Fountain Palace has lasted for hundreds of years. It means legitimacy for whoever's inside. It's a symbol we don't want to destroy."

Roan understood her we meant the Hapan exiles this time. "You just need to kill the queen," he said simply.

Allana nodded. "It needs to be done to free Hapes from the Sith. That's why I'll be part of that strike team."

"You?" Roan blinked. "Isn't that…" He didn't want to say that she was too old for such a dangerous fight.

"The Sith have occupied my home for thirty-seven years," Allana said darkly. "It's my duty as queen to end it. You understand that, don't you, Your Majesty?"

She looked back to Davek, who nodded slowly. "I think I do. Your Majesty."

"Then you understand why we need your help."

He closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and opened them. "Very well. The Empire will step up where the Alliance has not and liberate Hapes from its tyrant. The Jedi and Imperial Knights will fight together again."

-{}-

Since the end of the battle aboard Nemesis, Vitor felt like he was experiencing the revelation of his death all over again. After the dream he'd passed through constant dread into a weird exhilaration that had led him- boldly, madly- to sneak aboard the enemy flagship confident in his invincibility. That confidence had nearly gotten his mother killed, and when the fight ended he'd learned that his grandmother was dying and been whisked away on the long flight to this half-mythic living planet he'd heard of but never set foot on.

To him it was just another planet: green hills, gray skies, but no enlightenment and little hint of the great Force power it was supposed to wield. For Vitor, everything had been reduced to the narrow point of his waiting death. Even the death of his grandmother, who'd done so much to train him in his early years, was shadowed by his selfish grief.

That had all been before he sat down with his family and Allana and watched them discuss an invasion of Hapes. Since Jaina had made the request of her father his dread had been rising, and when Allana had shown them the holo of Hapes' Sith Queen all the vicious uncertainty of the past few weeks vanished. Finally, he knew exactly when, where, and how he was going to die.

And at the very start, as he'd looked at the familiar face of the woman who'd kill him, he actually felt relief. He knew, and no longer had to fear each sunrise might be his last.

But relief died fast. By the end of his family's conversation he'd stopped paying attention entirely. As he stared at his parents he was overwhelmed by the enormity of what destiny had stolen from him. He would never be Emperor and would never shoulder the responsibility of leadership. Much worse, he'd never have a family of his own. No sons, no daughters to pass on his legacy. He'd never have a wife. He'd been training and fighting for so long that he'd never had a chance fall in love and now he was certain he'd never get the chance to win someone's trust and affection and build a new life in partnership. He'd never feel her touch his face warmly or feel her teasing, tickling whisper in his ear. Love did not exist, the woman did not exist. Life and a future did not exist, not for Vitor Fel.

And as he looked around the interior of Jade Shadow he thought of all the other things, the meager-seeming things he did have, that would all be wiped away: the familiar pressure of his lightsaber in his palm, the geography of tiny nicks and scratches on the red armor he'd word for years, the way he arranged the shelves in his quarters on Bastion and the view he woke up to on the lucky mornings he spent at home. The eagerness of his cousin Mohrgan, the admiration and intimidation Roan felt toward his big brother and tried to hide. The guidance of his parents, exemplars in their own ways. Marin, absent Marin, with whom he'd shared so much and once assumed he'd share a future too. That future was already gone, and it had hurt when he'd lost it, but he felt that hurt anew, strongest of all the coming losses that were piling on to crush him.

When the talk was over Vitor excused himself and avoided questions. He went out of the ship, across the landing field, into the Middle Distance where strange organic buildings were populated by strange beings he couldn't sense in the Force. He ignored all the wonders and marched out of the city, into the forested hills where he could be alone.

Tall bora trees cast cool shadows, further darkening the gloom from the overcast sky. Vitor paced tight circles around their trunks. He wanted to scream. He wanted to cry.

He settled for calling out for the planet's supposed consciousness. He tilted his head back and bellow at the trees, "Where are you? I need help! Tell me how I'm supposed to handle this! Tell me how I'm supposed to march in there and die!"

No answer. Birds and faint wind rustled the trees high above, but nothing moved around him.

"I didn't want this!" He shouted again. "Can't you help me? Can't you change this? I'll do anything you want! Anything! Just help me! I could do so much more! So much! I don't want to die! Help me!"

When he was out of breath he sunk to his knees. He couldn't stop his hands from shaking until he curled them into fists and pounded the dirt. It was damp and soft beneath his knuckles and he pounded and pounded like that would raise the planet's reply. And when he was exhausted he sank back and looked around the dark forest and still he was alone. Hatred washed over him, resentment toward this silent world and the Force itself, the great and silent power that had given him everything and took it away without reason or apology.

The Force never explained itself. It merely was, and it willed what it willed, and not even the Jedi who swore obedience to that will could ever explain it. It had never seemed more cruel. He'd never hated the Force until now.

When the day waned and the forest floor darkened, Vitor finally rose from the dirt. He brushed brown off the shins of his trousers. He stood in place and looked in all directions. The layered tree-trunks seemed a maze of shadows and he didn't know which way he'd come. Reluctantly, bitterly, he reached out with the cruel and awesome power he'd been given, sensed the fleeting lives of his family in one direction, and started toward them.

He didn't go into the Middle Distance until night fell. He didn't want to explain what he'd been doing or talk to his brother or parents. There was only one person he could speak with who might understand. While yesterday everyone had spent together, gathered around his grandmother's bedside, today she'd received a series of quiet visits, one person at a time. When he came to her damutek he found Jaina's friend Tahiri sitting cross-legged on the stoop, body buried in brown robes. When Vitor approached she lifted her eyes.

Vitor started, "Is my grandmother…"

"She's resting. She doesn't have any visitors right now."

"Is she awake?"

The old woman looked at him, considering something, he didn't know what. In this darkness she couldn't see his face. His Force-aura might be telling something else.

But in the end, she unfolded her legs and stood up. "Go ahead, Vitor," she said, and walked off into the night.

He hesitated for just a second, then walked into the dark damutek. There was one lamp, a real flame, trembling in the corner of the room. Its unsteady light spread across the low dome of the roof and by it Vitor could see his grandmother's face. Jaina was lying flat but her dark eyes were narrowly open. She shifted her head to watch him as he sat down on the stool beside her bed.

"Hi," Jaina said, very faint.

"Hello," Vitor said.

"You took… your time."

"I'm sorry. I just had… a lot to think about."

"I know."

He leaned forward in the dark. "You know?"

"Everyone… could tell." A brittle smile. "I'm not dead yet."

She didn't know everything. Maybe she had a hint. As he hunched forward Vitor's hands clasped tight together. He tried to think of what he'd planned to say but nothing came.

"Vitor," she asked softly, "What is it?"

He only had to get it out. He took a ragged breath and said, "I'm going to die."

She looked at his shadow-shrouded face and waited.

He said, "I've seen it in the Force. I'm going be killed on Hapes by Queen Serissa."

"In a vision?" Jaina whispered.

"A dream. That's how I've always gotten them and they've never been wrong."

"Vitor…. The future-"

"Don't tell me it's always in motion. Please. Mine isn't. Every one of my dreams has come true. The very first one- the first one I remember anyway- I got right before Veers attacked the academy on Bastion. And we fled, and the Sith came after us and almost killed us both. We fought them in the rain. I saw that in a dream the night before it happened. I thought it was just a nightmare then, but it wasn't."

He thought she'd try to argue with him more. He'd even wished it, on the chance she'd have a compelling argument against destiny that hadn't occurred to him. His heart fell when she whispered, "I'm so sorry, Vitor."

"I just… don't know what to do. I haven't told anyone else. I couldn't. I just wish I'd never had that damned vision. I shouldn't have to know I'm going to die."

Softly she said, "Everyone dies, Vitor."

"But not like this. I could do so much more, be so much more."

He could be an Emperor, a leader and a hero. He could grow old with his brother. He could fall in love, share that love, and make new life with it. The last one seemed to hurt the most. He'd been so occupied by war and duty all these years he'd put aside what he might want for himself in the blind believe he'd have it later. The Force had cheated him. He'd cheated himself.

Slowly, considerately, Jaina said, "My brother Anakin was younger than you when he died. And I've spent so much time thinking about him. The life he should have had. What else he could have accomplished. How he could have changed the galaxy."

"He did change the galaxy," Vitor said. "He saved the whole Jedi during the Yuuzhan Vong War. That's what you told me."

"And it's true." Her hand reached out across the bed and he took it. "Anakin deserved so much more than he got… but he left a beautiful legacy. His legacy is us. That's what made him great. Being a Jedi… is as much about how we face death as how we face life."

"They say there is no death. Only the Force." He didn't want to say how he felt about the Force right now.

"That saying holds true… from a certain point of view."

"I never liked those ones." Vitor said. "You know Jedi who've survived in the Force after dying. You've talked to them. Maybe you're not afraid because you'll get to be a blue ghost with your brothers but what about me? I'm no Jedi Master. I'm not even a Jedi. I'm an Imperial Knight. I barely know what that means. Roan thinks he does…" He shook his head. "When I die, I don't know I'll still be there. I don't know anything. And please, please don't ask me to trust the Force. Because I can't do that, not after what the Force did to me."

When his outburst was done he lowered his head. Jaina made no reply. When her grip on his hand weakened, Vitor looked up. She was still staring at him.

Silence dragged for another long moment. Then she said, "When your grandfather got older… he was so concerned about his legacy. You know your father cares too. His legacy and Jag's."

"They both accomplished so much. I've just-"

"Anakin was just sixteen. His legacy was… as great as anyone's. A legacy isn't about time." She squeezed his hand. "Everybody… runs out of time too soon. Whatever happens on Hapes… Whatever happens to you in the Force… You won't really be gone. Ever. Not to your parents. Not to Roan and Marin. Just… care about what you'll leave behind. It's always more than you think."

Jaina was right. Of course she was. Death had made him selfish, unlike her. He'd barely given any thought on what this would mean to his parents, his brother, the sister he'd almost had. He needed to make sure they'd be ready to carry on without him. He didn't know how yet. He still didn't think he could look his parents in the eye and tell them of his vision. But it was a start. For the short time left he could live with determination instead of grief.

He felt her pressure on his hand and her touch in the Force. Weak as she was, she tried to pass on warmth and strength. He squeezed back and touched back. Tears caught in his eyes but he blinked then down rather than wipe them away.

"Thanks, Grandma," Vitor whispered.

"Don't mention it," she whispered back, and pulled her hand away.

-{}-

Some time in the middle of the night, well after Vitor had left and she'd drifted off to sleep, Jaina found herself awake again and looking out the window. From her bed she could see just a thin sliver of sky, and for the past few days there'd been nothing but gray daytime and pure-black night. When she noticed starlight outside she barely believed it. She stayed in bed, eyes open. She watched those stars and noticed the very gradual creep of color into the surrounding black. Dawn was coming. It would be a clear, bright sunrise.

She found strength she hadn't known in days. She pushed herself upright in bed. She slid out from the covers very slowly, put her feet on the ground, and shakily stood. She found her shoes, slipped them on, and walked into the predawn light.

The air was cool and damp and smelled like the forest. She'd always loved the way Zonama Sekot smelled. It reminded her of Yavin 4, and the times she'd woken early and climbed up to the top of the Massassi temple and sat on its ancient stone edge to watch new daylight burn sheets of mist from the surrounding jungle. Sometimes her brothers had been with her, or Lowie or Zekk or Tenel Ka. Sometimes she'd been alone. No matter what, it had been a beautiful way to start a day.

It got easier to walk. Jaina couldn't remember the last time she'd felt so light. She climbed her familiar hill with the sunrise view. She found her familiar bench and sat down on it. From here she could see all the domed buildings and corkscrew spires of the Middle Distance, and the tree-lined ridges on the other side, and horizon beyond them all. The cloudless sky was burning gold and she knew the sun would be up in minutes.

"You got here just in time," said a voice beside her.

Jaina looked to her left and saw her brother Anakin. For some reason she wasn't surprised. Nor was she surprised to hear Jacen say, "We kind of guessed you'd want to be here for this."

Jaina looked to her right and there he was. Jacen was as she'd last seen him, before his second death here on Zonama Sekot. There was a weary peace in his dark eyes, his pale face and grim smile. When she looked at him she also saw all the other Jacens she'd known: the man darkened by forbidden love and secret drives; the questing, questioning youth; the goofy boy who kept his room stuffed with animals and always timed his bad jokes perfectly. She looked back to Anakin. He was as she'd last seen him too, a mere teenager (he'd never seemed quite so young in memory); small and smooth-faced but with grief and determination in his ice-blue eyes. And she saw the rest of Anakin as well: the quiet lonely boy, the curious tinkerer, the little brother she'd always done everything to protect.

As Jaina sat between them she no longer felt like an old woman incongruous against those died young. The ache and weakness and limitation of her body dissolved like dew in sunlight. She felt neither young nor old, not bound by years or flesh. She was simply Jaina, and Anakin was simply Anakin, and while Jacen had never been simply anything he was only now himself.

"Sorry about the wait," she told them.

"We didn't mind," Anakin said.

"We figured you deserved to take your time," added Jacen.

"I was… hoping I'd get a little longer. There was someone else I needed to talk to. One more thing I needed to do."

"There always is," said Jacen. "That's life."

Her brother would know better than anyone, she thought. He seemed content now, in a way he'd almost never been in life.

Jaina looked across the valley to where the sun's bright disc crept above the treetops. Soon it would raise mist from the forest like sunrise on Yavin 4, but even with her brothers beside her she found her thoughts drawn to another dawn. She thought back to the sole morning she'd seen on Tatooine, when she'd watched both discs chase away the nighttime cool and wipe every shadow from the vast open desert. That had been right after she'd dropped into the sand the weapon she'd made herself and fought and killed with, the one whose violet blade she'd driven through her brother's heart. It was only when she'd released it that she'd finally felt free of the destiny her uncle had placed on her long ago. No longer Sword of the Jedi, just herself, she'd watched Tatooine's double-dawn and felt like she was starting everything anew. That was what she felt now: the sweetest of reliefs.

As the sun rose higher, more than half its disc in view, she asked, "What happens now?"

"It's a little hard to explain," said Anakin. "It'll be better if we just show you."

"Are you ready?" Jacen asked softly.

"Just give me a minute," she whispered.

Jaina waited and watched until the sun cleared the horizon. Its red blaze was fading to white as the gold sky cooled to blue. It was going to be a beautiful day.