Luke Skywalker was an unusual boy. Everyone in town knew it, though nobody knew why. Luke didn't stand out in any particular way. He wasn't particularly tall or short. He got along well enough with most of the other kids, and he was quiet, speaking only when spoken to. His voice did possess an odd monotone, but that was hardly enough to set him apart from the pack. Despite all the evidence to the contrary, Luke was unusual, and so the town treated him unusually. He was neither pariah nor paraded, but it suited him just fine. He had his light, and it was better than any amount of praise that the villagers could offer.
Luke had always had an affinity for the light, even when he was too young to know what it was. He could sense its pulse in everyone that he'd met, even dullards like Beru and Owen. There was no love lost between them, the man's rough treatment had seen to that, but even he carried a shine.
Still thinking about the light, he lifted his model TIE into his hands. Beru had been furious when he'd brought it home, and she'd tried to take it from him. He let out a rare smile in remembrance. That had been the day he first awakened, the day he'd first touched Her.
"Just what the hell do you think you're smiling at?" The voice came from in front of him, and he turned his disinterested gaze to meet Brick's. Luke held it for a moment too long and turned back to his model.
Brick had tried for years to get any response from Luke, but nothing ever worked. Curses, punches, bluster, all of it was meaningless in the face of Luke's impassivity. He'd even gone as far as to mock Luke's disappeared father, a cardinal sin in such a small town, and he still got the same blank look. Tatooine lacked any sort of organized school system, so every kid who had the time got sent to the same old woman in the village. It gave Brick plenty of time to torment Luke, but none of it worked. Brick had hated being forced to learn, and he'd taken it out on Luke for all the time they'd known each other.
"I asked you a question, Echuta," goaded Brick. "What are you, too good to answer me?" Any hint of playfulness had dropped out of his tone and there was an ugly sneer on his face, the kind usually reserved for womp-rats creeping into the pantry. It was a harsh expression on a face as young as Brick's, but it made no difference to Luke.
"Is it already time?" Luke asked himself quietly. She'd been whispering in his ears for years, but she'd cautioned him against acting too fast. He shuddered in anticipation, glad that the moment was finally there. Luke rose to face the teen, smile still fixed firmly onto his face.
Overcome with rage, Brick wound his arm back and struck out. Hours spent carrying backbreaking casks of water, fixing ships, and doing every odd job imaginable on the farm had strengthened his arms. Sneaking into bars and fighting men twice his age had honed his skill. His punch would easily cripple Luke, if not kill him. Through the red haze of his anger, Brick couldn't think of anything beyond hurting Luke, and he punched blindly with all of his force. His blow should have struck true, but the satisfaction of impact never came.
Brick's body had become weightless and unresponsive. He was just inches away from Luke when his body ceased to move. It was like the stories that his mother had told him of the tar pits deep in the Jundland Wastes that could swallow even Krayt dragons in moments. If it were possible he would have shivered, but even that small freedom had been arrested.
"What- have you done?" said Brick, with halting words. Each word drained him, and by the end of his sentence, he was left gasping for air. The oxygen coursing in and out of his vein felt like molasses and when he focused he could almost feel his blood slowing. As his vision began to cloud, his mind idly drifted to one of his cherished memories. It had been the most bountiful moisture harvest Tatooine had seen in some years and Father had brought home candy from Mos Eisley. The year after had been harder, but he would never forget the sweet taste. It was one of the few good memories that he had from the cursed planet, and it brought a smile to his face. With that final thought, Brick's vision went completely dark, and he departed into the force unafraid.
With a smile on his face, Luke murmured out a quiet, "It's better this way," and turned around, basking in the light.
Obi-Wan had been woken up by a variety of unpleasant situations, but being called upon to answer for the death of a sixteen-year-old was a recent low. Lying low as a hermit had its benefits, but it had also made him a compelling scapegoat. He quickly snapped out of his reverie, remembering that there were five villagers in his hut, each holding a similar grim countenance.
'Foolish. I need to be sharper, even if I am out of practice.'
"Did you do it?" came the stiff voice of one of the five. It was the voice of an open sore, and he didn't need the Force to know that this was the boy's father. "Because if you killed my boy I'll give it back to you tenfold and leave you for the Tuskens!" His anger reached a boiling point, and he leapt for Obi-Wan, barely being restrained by his fellows. Two dragged him out of the hut, struggling with the fractured heap of a man.
"Sorry 'bout that," came the drawl of the leader. "Brock's always been quick to jump to conclusions, and given the current circumstances I hope you'll forgive him."
"Of course, Brooks. Emotions are running high, and I know the townspeople don't hold me in the highest regard," said Obi-Wan. The remnants of his Coruscanti accent and his insistence on living in the wastes won him few friends amongst the townspeople, excluding Brooks. Brooks Darklighter, despite being a wealthy tradesman, had never forgotten his humble upbringing. He'd offered Obi-Wan a place to get back on his feet when he first arrived in the desert and had even given him the wood to build his hut. He was a good, honest, man and the only thing resembling a friend that Obi-Wan could count on.
"Superstitious fools, the lot of 'em,'' came that same easy drawl. Obi-Wan inwardly sighed as he noticed the glares from the other men. They already had reason enough to bay for his blood, and Brooks angering them further wouldn't help his case, no matter how well-meaning.
"It's all very understandable. I'm happy to cooperate however you'd like," he said, trying to maintain some semblance of neutrality. Maneuvering around poor farmers was far easier than negotiating with warlords, but it could be just as unpredictable, if not more so. It appeared that he'd said the right thing though, as he could see an infinitesimal shift in posture that brought their hands further away from their blasters. They never presented a real danger to him in the first place, but he supposed that the thought counted more than anything.
"Well, here's everything we know," Brooks said slowly. "Brock saw Brick leave the house yesterday at midday. He didn't come home and Miss Marstrap found him near the edge of the canyons." Obi-Wan laced his hands together at that, trying to maintain a serene disposition.
"How did he die?" he asked, still deep in thought. The cause of death wouldn't clear everything up, but it would at least give him something to work, and any lead would be beneficial.
"We don't know. His body didn't have any damage as far as we could tell, and Brock certainly can't afford no autopsy." At that, a note of frustration leaked into Brooks's voice. It seemed this conversation had already taken place, and he hadn't gotten the answer he was looking for.
"He won't let you pay." It wasn't a question: Obi-Wan knew Brock well enough to understand his hatred of charity, and he felt a bit of the same frustration slip into him. To lose out on the chance for justice out of a misplaced sense of pride? It reminded him far too much of Anakin, and a bitter wound that he tried his hardest to keep closed opened the slightest bit.
"'Course not. The damn fool doesn't know what's good for him," said Brooks. There was a pregnant pause as all the men sat in the hut, unsure of how to proceed. Without an autopsy, it was impossible to know whether Brick had suffered from any conditions that could have contributed to his death, and between Brock's pride and superstition that was a non-starter. Obi-Wan gazed up at the ceiling and sighed. The Force never made it easy, did it?
"I'll ask around town and see if there've been any unusual happenings lately. I doubt it will turn up anything, but it may be worth a look," he said quietly. It was a light concession, but it was the best he could offer. It was a near certainty that no one had seen anything, but perhaps he'd be able to dig something up to tie it all together.
"I sure do appreciate it, Ben," Brooks said quietly. They shook hands, and as the men left Obi-Wan waited until he was sure they were out of earshot to let out his full sigh. If it was as he suspected, then the last hope against the Sith may have fallen at the tender age of twelve. He'd have to confirm it by reaching the Lars homestead, but there were few reasons for a healthy teenage boy to drop dead, and all signs pointed to the Force.
'I pray that I'm wrong, but if I'm correct… I will not fail where I once did.' With grim determination, he strode out the door, resolute, but terrified of what lay ahead.
As Obi-Wan arrived at the homestead, he felt a chill run up his spine. The Force had guided him there, and it was practically shuddering in anticipation. It was unnatural; The Force had been quiet for the past twelve years. Anakin's slaughter had seen to that. Now though, the Force was buzzing around him, nearly cacophonous as he strode through the gates.
It was silent as he stepped through. The only thing he heard was the sound of shifting sand, and even that was muted. It was wrong for a home with a twelve-year-old and a man that grumbled as much as Owen to be so quiet, and it put him on his guard. His hand unconsciously slipped toward the lightsaber he never carried, and he almost wished for its familiar presence on his hip to quell his doubts. As he passed through the threshold, he was immediately struck by the silence of the force. While outside it had been nearly deafening, inside it was little more than a murmur. It was certainly easier on his senses, but it worried him all the same. There weren't even the feathery whisperings that came from the uninitiated, let alone the blaring thoughts that he should've been able to hear from Luke.
He picked up his pace as he strode towards the door of the main house. There was nothing out of place that he could sense physically, but he knew that the Force had guided him for a reason. He stepped to the door and braced himself for what he'd find inside. It had been many years since Obi-Wan had graced a war zone, but he still remembered the rituals that he'd gone through before every battle. Breathing exercises he'd been taught in the crèche came flooding back to him, and they brought him a small measure of comfort against his nerves. He creaked open the door, wary of what awaited him, and his worst fears were confirmed.
The Lars were sprawled across the floor, locked together in a twisted embrace. Obi-Wan shuddered at the sight. There was no love lost between him and the Lars; they were harsh people who had been ground down by the desert, but they had taken in Luke all the same. That counted for something.
As he walked forward to investigate, he noticed something odd about the scene: the stench of death was absent. He'd become well acquainted with it throughout the years, and it would've been inescapable in such a small dwelling. Perhaps they were only recently dead, but even a fresh corpse should carry a scent.
'No sign of death. The same as the boy,' he thought to himself. 'How could I have been so blind? It seems in my foolishness I've allowed the creation of yet another monster.' The bitter thoughts weren't fair, but he'd lost the right to that a long time ago. He shut the Lars' eyes for a final time and took his last gaze at them. They were oddly peaceful; there was no rictus of pain or fear, and if he hadn't known better he might've thought them asleep. He glanced away before he could begin to feel sick. There was a job to do, and he couldn't let guilt get in the way of it.
He walked out of the house to the stall where they kept their speeder. He normally prided himself above such petty theft, but time was of the essence. As the speeder revved up, he waved a final goodbye to the house and the village surrounding it. He could never return after another three deaths, and even if they accepted him by some miracle there wouldn't be a point. The only thing tying him to the desert was Luke, and without him there was nothing. He would go to his hut, take his lightsaber, and confront the boy that had started it all.
'For better or worse, this must end,' he thought, and the grim determination that had been building inside him gained a little more fortitude.
After picking up his lightsaber, he'd gotten back into the speeder and opened himself entirely to the Force. He'd kept a tight wrap on his signature for the past decade to avoid any gutsy inquisitors or even Vader himself, but that hardly mattered now. The only good he could do now was to put down Luke as quickly as possible.
He ceased conscious thought as he let the Force pour into him. He'd brushed against it a few times since Mustafar, but he'd mostly left it untouched. It beckoned to him like an old friend, and despite the severity of the situation, he felt the ghost of a smile tug at his lips. The Force was a beautiful thing, and he cursed himself for sealing it away for so long.
Any of the joy that he'd felt fell away as he located Luke's signature. It wavered and though he couldn't get a read on it, it shone like a beacon. It was almost invitational, as if it awaited him. The Dark must have seeped in the boy quickly to make him so confident, but he wouldn't look a gift bantha in the mouth.
He sped towards the pulsating presence, unwilling to waste even a second. It took him practically an hour, but he eventually reached a cave deep in the wastes. The surrounding area was completely devoid of life and the Force gave off the same eerie feel that it had near the homestead. He tried to peer into the cave, but it was massive, and the inside was filled with an opaque darkness. He startled a tad as he realized what he was looking into.
'A krayt den, really, Luke? You certainly have your father's flair for the dramatic,' he thought, attempting to provide himself a bit of levity. It didn't work. He lit his saber as he took his first steps into the cavern and the normally unflappable master felt a jolt of shock run through him. Before him lay a Krayt dragon, the most vicious predator of the desert. In his younger years, he could have taken one with ease, but the idea of fending one off at his age gave him some pause. It appeared that he'd worried over nothing though. As he crept closer, he saw that the dragon was dead, not asleep. There were no exhalations coming from the beast, and when he touched a hand to its side he felt the cool of death.
'Just what has the boy become?' he thought to himself. To kill a man was one thing, but a dragon? The strength required to end such a thing with the Force alone was nothing short of monstrous. Perhaps the Grandmaster or Anakin could've accomplished such a feat, but to do it at such a young age… it was terrifying.
He banished the thoughts from his mind and strode with purpose deeper into the cavern. Doubts were unbecoming of a Jedi, and he'd faced foes far fiercer than any pre-teen. Despite all his reassurances, he couldn't suppress his nerves as he journeyed deeper into the earth.
"Does she sing to you too?" The voice was the soft monotone he'd come to associate with Luke the few times they'd met, and it swirled around him, omnipresent in the cavern. Obi-Wan's eyes flicked to the sides, and he slowly turned, surveying everything around him. There was nothing he could see, though it didn't surprise him. It would have been far too simple to find Luke without some arcane trick of the Force getting in his way. He did his best to ignore the voice and went deeper into the tunnel; the faster he found Luke the faster this madness would be over.
"You're the first one I've sensed that could hear her," came Luke's voice again, louder this time. "But she doesn't sing to you, does she?" His voice was mournful this time, and it filled Obi-Wan with such a sadness that he nearly turned around. He shook himself and started to run, willing his arthritic knees into something resembling a sprint. Luke's suggestion was far too powerful and if it continued he wouldn't be able to resist. He maintained the sprint until he reached the end of the cavern, where he finally found the object of his search.
The boy sat cross-legged in a loose meditation, clearly ensconced in the Force. If he hadn't known better, Obi-Wan would've thought him a padawan practicing meditation. It was a bittersweet reminder of his time training Anakin, and he cursed himself for his failures. He took a closer look at the boy and saw that he sat amongst the bones of a dragon. The rib cage spiraled around him and the blue light gave him an almost ethereal look.
"You never answered me, you know," said Luke, again in that same unearthly tone. "I suppose that it doesn't matter, though," he continued, "You'll be joined with her soon enough."
"Arrogance has been the undoing of men far better than you," he countered swiftly. "You should not presume to take me so lightly." There was a brief lull then, an uncomfortable silence that was only broken by Luke's giggles. They still carried a disembodied tone, but they were unmistakably those of a child, and they filled him with an eerie dread.
"You don't understand, do you," he said between laughs, nearly breathless. "How could you, when you can't hear her?"
"And just who is she?" he finally asked resignedly. He didn't want to humor the boy, but no matter how he'd tried to harden his heart, Luke held a heartbreaking resemblance to Anakin. He'd take any excuse to delay the inevitable.
"You should know her better than anyone, Ben," said Luke with subsiding mirth. "You called out to her for the first time in years. She may be upset with you, but don't pretend that you've never met."
"You mean the Force then," he said carefully, trying to keep Luke stable.
"If that's what you want to call her. She's far more than that though," replied Luke, and Obi-Wan bit back a gasp as he finally opened his eyes. They were a pure white with no pupil to be found, and they shone with a luminous, if off-putting glow. The empty gaze pierced him to his core, but it also carried an odd familiarity that put him on edge. He was broken from the gaze as Luke continued, "You've touched her, so I suppose you deserve an explanation before you join the others."
"I've already told you that won't be happening, Luke. I'll hear you out, though I doubt any explanation you offer will be acceptable," he shot back.
"I sent them to her to free them, Ben," said Luke quietly. "If you could hear her voice and see her light, you would understand. You're so close, Ben, but you still don't realize."
"You killed three innocents Luke, one a boy hardly any older than you," he replied wearily. "What could there be to realize?"
"She wanted them back, and so I sent them to her. She wants all of her children back, Ben." Obi-wan took a surreptitious step forward as the boy spoke. If he could get close enough then he could end him in one strike, but if Luke was as dangerous as he believed then he'd only get one shot.
"And you believe yourself strong enough to end every being in the galaxy?" he asked, trying to keep the boy talking as he worked for a better angle.
"Not end, Ben. Begin," he said, a hint of annoyance slipping into his voice. "And I may not be strong enough now, but she's shown me her path, and it will give me the strength I need."
"How so?" he said, risking a few more steps. His wariness almost felt foolish given Luke's lack of reaction, but he felt that caution was warranted given what the boy was capable of.
"When I send their souls to her, she allows me to keep their light. After I take yours, nothing on the planet will be able to stop me. Once I take the planet, I'll free everyone in the galaxy. I'll sail to a million worlds and reunite every soul under her radiance." The grin had returned to Luke's face and the horror Obi-Wan felt was insurmountable. He opened himself completely to check Luke's presence, and he finally understood the boy's twisted nature. There were thousands of presences trapped within the boy, almost completely submerged beneath his own. Most were weak creatures of the desert, but there were three that stood out above the rest. Obi-Wan felt a tear run down his cheek as he realized what Luke had become, and he silently hoped beyond hope that the Force remained with him.
He struck out quickly, praying that he could end the boy before he could realize his designs. His blade flashed in the same arc that had killed thousands of men in hundreds of battles, but it was for nothing. Without a movement or any recognition of danger, Luke flung him into the wall of the cave like a bored child with a worn-out plaything. He strained against his invisible bonds with every ounce of focus he could muster, but it was pointless. Luke had the strength of a thousand behind him, and he was powerless in the face of it all.
"Say hello to her for me, will you?" said Luke with a faint tinge of jealousy. As Obi-Wan began to lose consciousness he felt a deep sorrow, and he wept for the monster that the boy had become.
AN: That's a wrap. If you enjoyed the story, please leave a review. They help me improve.