Special thanks to daisybaritone for beta-ing this chapter!
This chapter is almost entirely setup for the arc to come - it turned out longer than anticipated, but I think everything here is stuff I want to include regardless.
Then.
The sun rises on an already busy planet, casting long lines of shades of gold across the surface of Coruscant.
It's only 0545 hours. At this time of day, most of the Coruscanti residents are either asleep or just getting out of bed, ready for another long day in a galaxy plunged into war. Many of those directly involved with the war effort are already up - sitting at her desk, Senator Chuchi is already pouring over legislation. At the 500 Republica, Senator Amidala is preparing for a long day, her handmaidens assisting her with her make-up, and at the veranda of another apartment, Senator Mothma is just stepping into her speeder, getting ready to depart to the Senate Dome.
In one of the rooms of the Senate, Chancellor Palpatine stands, eyes closed, his body turned towards the window. Following the destruction of his office, he had been moved to a different room, far more bland and less inviting than his previous office. But no matter. The placement of one's office is not something crucial in the long term.
He carefully casts out his senses, ensuring that his presence is still carefully crafted, bland and unassuming so that any Jedi that senses him will immediately move on to another presence. In the Force, he reaches out, searching the tendrils of the future which spiderweb in an intricate pattern across his vision.
One of the webs touches upon a document on his desk. He opens his eyes, peering at the unassuming flimsi, and he sees that it is a report sent from the Jedi Council of their search for Maul. He had dismissed it earlier, even reveling in the idea that the Jedi would search Dathomir and leave, realizing too late that they had missed General Grievous by a short moment in time, but he reconsiders.
The names on the report were mostly unsurprising. Obi-Wan Kenobi. Anakin Skywalker. Ahsoka Tano. The heroes of the Republic, sent down to hunt down a renegade Sith. Sidious is not even particularly surprised that the Jedi had sent Padawan Tano to hunt down Maul - after all, he can sense her quick growth in power. He muses on her future, debating the benefits of possibly turning her to the Dark Side as well. She would certainly make a powerful ally, and her Fall could potentially push Anakin to Fall as well. It is… appealing.
But then again, her death would certainly be of great impact as well. What to do, what to do…
An opportunity opens up to him, unfolding in his mind's eye. A smile spreads across his face - not one carefully crafted with just the right amount of warmth, weariness, and empathy, but the true smile with a sadistic coldness which frequently sends shivers down the spines of whoever is unlucky enough to see it.
It is early enough in the morning for him to be undisturbed. He had deliberately cleared out his schedule for the day, ensuring that he would be free to go about as he pleased. There are goals he needs to accomplish before Anakin returns. What is more, Master Yoda has left Coruscant for a meditative retreat. It has worked out perfectly - but Sidious must hurry.
Palpatine calls to Mas Amedda. "See to it that I am undisturbed," he instructs.
"Yes, Your Excellency," says Amedda with a bow, and he sweeps out of the room without another word.
Even in the safety of his own office, Darth Sidious does not take chances. Nothing is left to chance - all he does is deliberate and with careful consideration. Thus, he moves to a hidden closet, used only when he needs to make quick communications to his apprentice. The entrance slides open, only movable by the Dark Side of the Force, and he quietly moves inside, pulling on the cloak he often dons when around Count Dooku.
No use being careless, even on a secure communications channel such as this one that's thrice-encrypted.
The holo buzzes, flickering on to reveal the kneeling form of Count Dooku. "Master," he says by way of greeting, and even through the hologram, Sidious can sense the waves of hatred and rage, carefully controlled, roiling in the Force.
He allows himself a smile, and carefully begins to detail his plan.
Dooku is not told everything, of course. He is not told that Sidious has foreseen the death of Grievous. He is not told that Sidious is planning the beginning of the end, that after careful consideration, he knows that now is the time for the war to begin winding down, and that the twilight of the Jedi will soon begin. He is not told that Sidious foresees that Anakin Skywalker is walking the precipice between Light and Dark, precariously balanced.
What he is told is that Obi-Wan Kenobi and Ahsoka Tano must die. And so, special commando droid units are commissioned, their body plates laced with cortosis to make lightsabers and blaster bolts ineffective against them, and two squads are deployed, one for each Jedi. Such droids have been tested in the field before - usually, two droids are enough for a singular Jedi, but both Tano and Kenobi are powerful, and so nothing is left to chance. The invasion of Dathomir is moved up by a week to catch the Jedi by surprise during their search for Maul.
Dooku bows low, and takes the orders without question. The comm cuts, and Palpatine emerges from the closet and calls to Mas Amedda. "Prepare my ship," he instructs, and Amedda makes haste to follow the orders.
Parsecs and parsecs away, surrounded by the whirling blue lights of hyperspace, the Twilight continues on its steady pace towards Dathomir. In the back of the ship, Ahsoka sits in a quiet meditation, reflecting on the events of the past week.
Just a week earlier, Ahsoka had been released from her cell in the light of Barriss' admission of guilt. She had been distraught, and understandably so - the news outlets reported that Ahsoka and Barriss used to be best friends. You won't believe this shocking betrayal in the Jedi Temple! they reported.
Other tabloids reported how Anakin Skywalker avenged the betrayal. Avenger of his apprentice! screamed the headlines. They reported how he fought valiantly against the traitor Barriss Offee, how she had left him with no choice but to strike her down. Glorified tales of their duels circulated on the holonet, and with it, a holo that someone had snapped of Anakin Skywalker brooding while standing atop the ruins of the Detention Center, which sent a great many people swooning in their seats.
What they hadn't seen was Ahsoka breaking down in her cell. What they hadn't seen was how that night, following her release, she cried herself dry in her quarters, her heart slashed cruelly by the betrayal of someone she thought she could trust. She'd saved Barriss' life many times, but what's more, they were friends. They'd been through so much together. Part of her wondered what in the universe happened to Barriss to make her go mad like this - as a healer, shouldn't she know the consequences of a bombing?
The weight of the betrayal was not the only thing that cut her to the core. Since Mortis, her senses had been enhanced - to the point where when she went to investigate the Temple bombing, as well as when she was trapped underneath the rubble of the Detention Center, she had felt the harsh sting of every single life that had been lost, stabbing at her in the Force like a thousand knives of despair.
Anakin had held her as she cried, trying his best to send soothing waves in the Force. It had worked somewhat, but it was tainted with his anger over the hurt that had been inflicted on her. That had been comforting in part, but the coldness that had come with it hadn't exactly helped.
Then he had pulled out his comm, showing her the list of messages that some of her friends had left her - including Senators Amidala and Chuchi, as well as Lux Bonteri - and soon after, the tears had subsided.
(Master Kenobi hadn't been there in person. It wasn't until he returned to the joint quarters that she realized he had been there with her in the Force all along, shielding both her and Anakin and protecting them from being exposed.)
She'd barely recovered from that ordeal before she was backhanded with the news that Barriss' mind had been damaged. Master Allie had reported a strange surge in the Light Side of the Force which had ripped away the Dark that had stained Barriss' mind. "I could not pinpoint the presence, Masters," she had said to the Council. "I can only conclude that the Force acted by itself to save Barriss Offee as a person. But it had acted with a raw surge of power - as such, the healers believe that she has sustained considerable mental damage."
Indeed, though Barriss had been stabilized and she was projected to recover from the physical wound she had received from Anakin, the healers didn't think that she would wake up anytime soon. "She may have even lost parts of her memory," concluded Healer Rig Nema.
With Barriss in a coma, her trial had been quick. She had been convicted quickly for her part in four bombings - at the Temple, at the Chancellor's Office, at the Detention center, and at the warehouse. Tarkin had tried to argue for the death penalty, but the Senate-appointed lawyer had been able to argue it down to life in prison, citing Barriss' age and how she was likely not in her right mind due to trauma.
Obi-Wan had told her the news in a clipped tone. She'd blamed herself for damaging Barriss' mind, but he had been quick to defuse that notion. "You acted as the Force guided you, Ahsoka. You saved Padawan Offee. It was not your fault that she had Fallen and suffered the consequences, nor was it your fault that the Force had moved your hand."
"But I was the one who damaged her mind!" Ahsoka had snapped. Behind her, Morai had cooed, and Ahsoka saw it, clear as day, when her masters' eyes swiveled to look at the convor.
"So it was you," Anakin had murmured, eyeing the convor. He had turned his gaze back to Ahsoka. "I sensed your presence in the convor."
"I don't know how to explain it, but I was Morai," she'd said with conviction, voice rising as she got agitated. "I was the one that ripped the Darkness out of Barriss. I was the one that stopped her from dying. And you know what scares me the most? I knew I should have been scared!"
Anakin had reached out, trying to calm her. "Ahsoka-"
"I watched her force your hand!" She'd flinched at the volume of her own shout, then reigned in her voice, pulling it back into a low, harsh whisper. "I saw that she was the traitor. That she framed me and tried to kill you like she killed so many others. And you know how I felt? Calm. When I was Morai, I could only feel serenity. It was like I couldn't feel anything else but acceptance and an urge to do what I needed to do to save her life."
And that had horrified her more than anything.
She hadn't felt like a Togruta. She hadn't felt like a person.
She doesn't know what she felt like in that moment. She just knew that she'd felt so detached she hadn't been affected at all by Barriss' betrayal until she had woken up in a mortal body. The fact that she had the potential to be so unaffected terrified her because it was wrong. It was unnatural.
Anakin and Obi-Wan had tried to comfort her, but when she'd glanced back at them, she saw the sharp coldness in Anakin's presence and the unnatural glow in Obi-Wan's eyes, and she was reminded that they weren't entirely normal either.
She meditates on that now, allowing herself to sink more deeply into the Force than she would at the Temple. Here in hyperspace, on a ship with the only other two people that understand a modicum of what the chssk is going on, she allows herself to let go and plunge headfirst into the Force.
The journey to Dathomir is a long one. Anakin spends most of it in the cockpit, tinkering with the controls or bickering with Obi-Wan. Partway through the journey, they sense a surge in the Light Side of the Force at the back of the ship, and underneath the doorway, a hint of a white-gold light peaks through.
A smile tugs at Anakin's lips. "She's come a long way," he comments absently.
"She has," agrees Obi-Wan. Part of Anakin is grateful that Obi-Wan hadn't left his side at all. While Ahsoka was officially only Anakin's padawan - and while he definitely did spend more time with her than she did with Obi-Wan - the three of them were close enough for Ahsoka to have formed a learner's bond with Obi-Wan as well.
Anakin will never admit it, but part of the reason he's thinking about Knighting Ahsoka is because he's certain that she'll be at their side even after she's graduated. Often, he'd heard stories of masters and former-padawans drifting apart because of the different paths their lives had taken after the padawan had been Knighted, and such a thing would have possibly gotten in the way of him recommending Ahsoka for her Trials. He knows that it isn't a very Jedi sentiment, to be so attached, but he cares so much about her. If they had known each other on Tatooine, he would have even gone through the ritual of blood-bonding together to make her his sister. As it is, he knows his path will not diverge from Ahsoka's anymore than his own did from Obi-Wan following his Knighting.
As if catching on to the tail end of Anakin's thoughts, Obi-Wan smiles, nudging his former padawan through their bond in the Force. "You're thinking of Knighting her, aren't you?"
Anakin chuckles, fondness for his padawan seeping through his shields. "I am. She still has much to learn, but she's come a long way." Part of his smile fades as he considers why. "The war made her grow."
Obi-Wan hums in agreement. "It did. Our padawan has matured greatly, but one cannot help but wish the circumstances that helped her learn were different."
"Yeah." It's unusual for someone her age to be Knighted. He himself had been the youngest Knighted in centuries at the age of nineteen. Obi-Wan had been Knighted at twenty-five. An irrational spark of jealousy rears its ugly head within him, and he quickly tamps it down, reminding himself why Ahsoka has grown so much more quickly than even he had at her age.
He hadn't been the Commander of armies at sixteen. He hadn't seen war-torn cities and anguished civilians on a weekly basis at sixteen. Part of him feels sick that Ahsoka, alongside so many other padawans, have been forced into Command. They're still just kids.
They're so young.
Something else tickles the back of his mind, but he pushes it away in favor of another joke. "How does it feel, master?" he asks, voice disarming. "To have both your padawans beat you by years in the time it took us to be Knighted?"
Obi-Wan rolls his eyes, but in the Force, a fond amusement seeps through. "Very proud," he says truthfully, and though Anakin isn't a padawan anymore, he feels his skin flush at the nugget of praise. "Although I do wonder why it is that we all must always face a lightsaber-wielding terror before our Knighting."
It's a dark joke. Obi-Wan had faced Maul, Anakin had faced Dooku, and they had both lost something in their duels. Obi-Wan had lost Qui-Gon, and Anakin had lost his arm. At his right elbow, the phantom pain of the missing limb gnaws at him.
And he laughs at Obi-Wan's joke, because it's what they've always done. It's easier to laugh about those things rather than brood and go kriffing insane. It's the only way to keep one's mind intact during the war. "I'm sure she'll be fine. I'd be more worried about her destroying Grievous so thoroughly we wouldn't have an identifiable body."
Something else - the thing that had been bugging him earlier - comes back to mind, and he pushes it away. The conversation tapers off into a comfortable silence, only broken occasionally with the click of buttons as Anakin fiddles with the ship's controls. The next few hours are much the same - comfortable silence, only broken by the occasional banter.
Time passes. The white-gold glow from the back of the ship fades and the door slides open, revealing an Ahsoka that's rubbing her bleary eyes from hours of meditation. "Hey, masters," she mumbles, and they smile in return, sending her a cheery hello in the Force. She takes her seat, pulling out a datapad to study the details of the mission, and they sit in silence, the Force swirling lazily in a calm dance of harmony moving around the cockpit. Here, they can afford to be more unshielded, more relaxed. Nothing is said about how Obi-Wan's fingertips seem to fade between a corporeal form and mist. Anakin and Ahsoka say nothing when they feel the phantom touch of each other's wings brushing against each other. They all sit together in comfort, glad to be among friends.
Fifteen minutes later, she squints at her datapad, her eyes trailing from the screen to the back of her masters' chairs. "You two were the first Jedi to set foot on Dathomir in a thousand years?"
Anakin shrugs. "Yeah. The Council wouldn't have ordered us to do it if there was any other way. But we were out of options."
"Wow," Ahsoka says. Obi-Wan, too, had been surprised when he and Anakin were assigned to investigate Dathomir. Even Master Windu hadn't ever set foot there, and it was well-known to all in the Order that Master Windu is the one who has researched the most extensively into the Dark Side. After all, as the Master of Vaapad, it was critical that he knew all aspects of the Dark in order to be able to bend it to his will and to channel it into working for the Light. "What was it like?" she asks.
"Strange. Different." Anakin looks up from the controls of the ship, his eyes far away as he remembers. "It was like…"
Unsure of how to put it into words, he glances to Obi-Wan. "Do you remember Ilum?" Obi-Wan asks, watching Ahsoka with a thoughtful gaze.
"I do." Her brows furrow as she reflects. "The Force felt… raw there. Pure. I'd never felt anything like it."
"Yes, it was," Obi-Wan says, voice soft. He leans forward, his elbow resting on his knee as he strokes his beard. "Dathomir is not dissimilar. The Force felt raw, almost primal - but unlike Ilum, it was as if there was something strange about it. I suspect that the manipulations of the Nightsisters over the millenia have changed the Force on the planet and molded it to their will."
Discomfort colours the Force around Ahsoka as she tries to grasp the explanation. "Did it feel… wrong?"
Obi-Wan remembers that Anakin had thought that it would. Surely, the Force wasn't meant to be wielded this way - to be corrupted into magick and used in ways that completely broke what the Jedi knew of how the Force should be wielded. But it hadn't felt wrong - after their mission to Dathomir, they had discussed it at length, labelling it as a mystery of the Force.
"I don't know," Anakin says. "Not wrong, but different. Almost like if they took it in a different direction than the Jedi. It didn't affect us differently, it just felt… strange."
"Oh." Ahsoka's eyes wander back to her datapad, a frown on her face, and Anakin tenses. Beside him, Obi-Wan leans forward subconsciously, anticipating what she is going to say. He knows what information has caught her eye - just as he knows that both he and Anakin are reluctant to talk about it.
But she brings it up all the same.
"This is newly declassified information," she says out loud. Behind her, the convor coos, a flash of white-gold in Obi-Wan's peripheral vision. "Information on the gods they worship." She swallows hard, and looks up, a question in her eyes.
"Yes. I presume you are speaking about the gods they refer to as the 'Ones,'" Obi-Wan says dryly. "And you wonder if the gifts left to us from the Force Wielders will affect our mission to aid the Nightsisters of Dathomir."
Ahsoka grimaces, nodding her head. "And what if we find Maul there?"
"I don't know. The last time we confronted him, he did not recognize us for what we were," Obi-Wan remembers. "I believe it was because he was not raised on Dathomir, and so could not understand what he was seeing."
"His brother did, thought." Anakin glances at Obi-Wan, swallowing hard. "Savage Opress was scared of us. He called me the Fanged God."
"Mother Talzin recognized me as well in her call with the Council." Obi-Wan holds Ahsoka's gaze, trying to convey to her the seriousness of the situation. "It is very likely that the Nightsisters will be aware of our abilities, and may treat us with more reverence than is normal."
The corner of Ahsoka's mouth pulls up into a smirk and she chuckles. "I'm not against that," she confesses, and through the Force, Obi-Wan can sense Anakin sending his amusement to his padawan.
Then the smile falls off of her face so suddenly as if it has just been struck off, and both Obi-Wan and Anakin frown, projecting their worry in the Force.
"Ahsoka? Are you okay?" Anakin asks.
She worries at her lower lip, her montrals twitching. She opens her mouth, hesitates, then closes it again, her eyes flicking between the two of them rapidly. Then she speaks. "When I was- in the Detention Center," she says haltingly, "I had a vision. Of myself. But- but it wasn't me."
Obi-Wan meets Anakin's eyes. Visions are not uncommon amongst the Jedi - especially cryptic ones. Part of Obi-Wan wonders if it is the curse of his lineage to have disturbing visions during their apprenticeship. They both glance back towards Ahsoka, allowing her time to continue without pushing her.
"It was a vision of an older version of myself," she continues. "And she was dead."
Beside Obi-Wan, Anakin sucks in a breath, his whole body tensing, and Obi-Wan knows exactly what image has just flitted through Anakin's mind. The image of Ahsoka's body on Mortis, unmoving, cold, dead, with unseeing eyes staring into the darkening sky. "Ahsoka-"
"Let me finish," she says, a little sharper than she intended. Anakin pulls back. "And my vision - she said that she was my future. But that she wasn't anymore, because you can't re-become something you already are."
Obi-Wan frowns. He has a bad feeling about this, and he's not sure he wants to hear it. But he should. "And what does that mean, Ahsoka?" he prompts gently.
Her face pales and she swallows hard, visibly gathering her resolve. "I died on Mortis. When you die, you become one with the Force." She stares at Anakin, then Obi-Wan, and he's suddenly reminded of how since Mortis, it didn't seem like she breathed at all when she slept, and how her skin always felt too cold. Ahsoka's voice cracks. "I can't become one with the Force again. I can't die."
They'd heard this revelation once before in the dim light of their quarters following the bombing at the Detention Center. But to hear it once again - to have it confirmed - is different. "Are you certain?" Obi-Wan asks. He doesn't doubt her, but he needs to ask.
At the same time, a startled "What?!" bursts from Anakin, colouring the Force with a sudden influx of worry and fear. Ahsoka shrinks back instinctively and Anakin winces, pulling back at his emotions. "What do you mean, you can't die?" he demands. In the corner of Obi-Wan's eyes, he sees Anakin's feet melting into shadow, his legs and boots strangely deformed.
Ahsoka stares back resolutely, her voice certain yet laced with terror. "I'm sure. I felt it. And-" Her presence trembles, and for a horrible moment, Obi-Wan wonders if she's about to break down. She reigns herself in, the Force pulsing as she draws on the Light, and behind her, the convor of white-gold coos, sending a soothing wave crashing around the cockpit. "The vision said that- I-"
She breaks off in frustration, her words refusing to come, and she swipes at her eyes furiously. Time and again, Obi-Wan is struck by despite how incredibly mature she is, Ahsoka is still sixteen, and she should be sparring and gossiping with other padawans - like how Obi-Wan was doing at that age - in the Temple rather than commanding armies on the regular.
Anakin reaches out, putting a comforting hand on Ahsoka's shoulder. "Ahsoka, it's alright," he says with a false calm. Through their training bond, Obi-Wan can sense the sharp edge of worry and fear in Anakin, carefully hidden for his padawan's sake. "You-"
"It's not!" she snaps. Anakin's face darkens, yet he still keeps his hand on her shoulder, trying to comfort her. "It's not alright because the vision said that you both can't die either!"
Oh.
Oh.
Anakin jerks back as if his hand had been burned and Obi-Wan sits up in his chair, back stiffening. A denial is already working its way up to Obi-Wan's tongue, ready to be spat out into the rapidly cooling air in the cockpit, but it never finds its way out. Already, the Force is crooning to him, showing him the universe-damned truth - that Ahsoka is right, that her vision hadn't lied, and that he, Obi-Wan Kenobi, a simple Jedi Master out of so many thousands of others (who surely are worthier, in his opinion) and his padawans have been chosen for this difficult path of replacing the Force Wielders as the gods of Mortis.
Still.
How? How could he be unable to die? Unable to-
A thought strikes him. Of living long after most of his friends have gone, after even Master Yoda has passed on, and of the knowledge that he will never be able to join them once they have died. Obi-Wan thinks of Satine, thinks of the last time he had seen her and the way she had looked at him, and then he thinks of living thousands of years knowing that he will never see her again.
To his horror, emotion begins to constrict his throat, and he falls back on years and years of training. There is no emotion, there is peace, he recites, and he grasps his feelings and releases them into the Force. There is no ignorance, there is knowledge.
(It doesn't really work.)
But there's no time to focus on himself. Obi-Wan is aware of the turmoil rising within Anakin, of the storm of confusionterroranger that begins to rise, and of the shadows in the ship that are beginning to elongate and warp. Obi-Wan slams aside any of his worries about himself and focuses on Anakin, because it's important to take care of his former padawan. It always has been.
There's no words exchanged. There aren't any that need to be. Obi-Wan falls into the Force, wrapping it around his own presence, and he draws on it to send the strongest waves of soothing calm that he doesn't feel through his bond with Anakin. He's aware of Ahsoka doing the same, and behind her, the convor hoots encouragingly, its body pulsing white-gold as it lends them strength.
The moment passes. The shadows on the ship stabilize, shrinking back to their normal size, and the three of them fall back into their seats.
"Sorry," mumbles Anakin shakily.
"It's not your fault," Obi-Wan assures him. With the short crisis surrounding Anakin over just as quickly as it had begun, Obi-Wan can feel the tendrils of fear beginning to creep back into his mind, making his breath short and his chest tight. "Such a revelation is not something to be taken lightly."
He calls on the Force again, releasing his emotions and trying to allow himself to calm. Again, it only partially works.
He'd never been particularly good at addressing his own emotions. He'd always preferred pushing them off in favor of helping others. At least, then- at least he knew he was doing some good.
At his side, Obi-Wan can feel Ahsoka beginning to clam up in fear as well. He reaches out, grasping the hands of his padawans. They need him, and damned if he won't do his utmost to help them find their balance once more. "Meditate with me," he orders softly, and he draws on the rock-solid grey that he knows is within himself, and he pushes it through his training bonds. "Come," he prompts again.
It's a testament to how shaken they are when neither of them protest. They move from their chairs to the cold metal floor of the cockpit, and Ahsoka reaches out her other hand to grasp Anakin's, forming a circle. Obi-Wan spares a quick glance at the navicomputer (T-minus 4.3 hours), and reaching through his bonds with his padawans, he guides them into meditation.
On Dathomir, a sudden horror rushes through the coven. No one senses it - no one but Mother Talzin, from whom the horror originated, and Darth Maul and Asajj Ventress, who are well attuned to the Force. Ventress leaps to her feet from her conversation with Karis at the dining table, and she rushes to Mother Talzin, who sits frozen at her table. "Mother!" she shouts. "Are you alright?"
At her side, Maul watches his mother carefully. The rest of the sisters look up in concern.
Talzin unfreezes, her face darkening. "Dooku and his minions have changed their plan of attack," she announces to the coven, and the Nightsisters tremble. No, they do not tremble because they fear Dooku and his minions - rather, they have never heard such anger from their Mother, and they hope never to hear such a thing ever again. "They will arrive in two rotations."
The sisters do not leap to their feet. They have been preparing for this invasion for months. Still, this announcement is unexpected, and dark mutters and angry expressions are found across the dining hall.
"The Jedi will arrive in hours," Mother Talzin continues, and Maul bristles. He had been instructed not to touch Kenobi - or any of the Jedi - in no uncertain terms. His mother had not been kind when warning him. She had clutched her hand, working her magick, and he had understood well in that moment that though he may certainly be able to defeat many of the Nightsisters in the coven, his mother was one of the few that could incapacitate him without so much as lifting a finger. She was - and is - prepared to risk his wrath to save his life. "Be prepared to greet them, sisters."
The sisters agree, eating quickly and preparing for the arrival of the Jedi - as well as Dooku's minions. Weeks ago, Mother Talzin had foreseen that Dooku himself would not come to do his dirty work, instead opting to send his tens of thousands of machines and a cyborg general that will wield Jedi weapons.
What the sisters do not see as they leave the dining hall is the knowing look Talzin shares with Old Daka. What the sisters do not hear is Talzin instructing Maul to fly to the village of the Nightbrothers to protect them, for she has foreseen that a group of machines will arrive at the village to try to eradicate them to prevent the Nightsisters from ever having children again. What the sisters do not feel is Maul's rage as he is cast aside under the threat of his mother using her magick to force him away from the village while Kenobi will be here.
As Ventress leaves the hall, she reflects on a strange change in her emotions. Since she had pledged herself to the Nightsisters, she had no longer held close to her heart the anger which she had always drawn on as Dooku's apprentice. She still has it - it sits there, simmering, ready to be called on in battle - yet it no longer controls her. She thinks of how when Mother Talzin had warned her that the Jedi arriving were Kenobi, Skywalker, and their Padawan, she had not been… overcome. She will not attack them, she decides. Her first loyalty is to the coven and to herself. But should they fall in battle…
Well, she won't care.
After she leaves the hall, Talzin is left alone with Daka.
"You did not tell them of the arrival of the gods," Daka says.
"No." Talzin stares out into the red fog of Dathomir, feeling the way the Force has been changed so that she and her coven may wield the magicks with great ease. "There is a blindness in my foresight when I try to divine their arrival."
Daka nods. "You think the gods may try to test us," she says wisely.
"When I spoke with the Parent, he was in a mortal form. They may keep their mortal forms to test the coven." Talzin turns to face Daka, worry in her eyes. "But I am unsure. They may arrive in their true forms, and terrify the coven. I do not know what to do."
As Clan Mother, it is exceedingly rare for Talzin to admit any vulnerability. Yet, in the presence of her oldest and wisest friend, Talzin allows herself to do so. "Allow the gods to choose for you," Daka advises. "Do not warn the sisters. Allow the gods to choose when they shall reveal themselves."
"And my son?" Talzin asks. She sighs. "I was forced to threaten him and send him away to ensure his compliance. I fear that his desire for revenge will overcome his respect for the gods. But I believe that it is better that he holds anger against me and live rather than act rash and be killed."
Daka nods sagely again. "A wise decision, Mother."
Mere hours away in hyperspace, the Twilight speeds toward Dathomir as its three occupants sink into the Force, sitting straight-backed in a circle. Perched atop the headrest of one of the chairs, Morai watches carefully, observing the way the Light, Grey, and Dark swirl around one another in a chaotic harmony, each of them in tandem with the other, yet all of them in turmoil over the same question that Morai can hear through the Force.
Why? Why? WHY?
She coos, sending another soothing wave to the three Jedi. Though they cannot hear it - so deeply entrenched in their meditation are they - they relax, their shoulders losing some stiffness, their faces relaxing from the scowl they had all worn. She tilts her head, staring deeply into their presences.
It is interesting that there is a speck of grey in both the new Son and the new Daughter. Morai looks carefully, peering deeply into the Force, and she sees the threads of Dark venom in the new Daughter just as surely as she sees the remnants of Light in the new Son. She sees how the Light in the new Son pulses, how it aids him by holding him back from falling completely into evil. Just as clearly, she sees the blackened threads of the Dark in the new Daughter, spread like faded black veins throughout her presence, and she sees how it helps her in battle, aiding her in bringing death when need be, just as she sees how the Dark allows the new Daughter to relish in vengeance against those who have wronged her and those she loves.
It is a very, very fine line upon which the new Son walks. The Dark brings death; it brings the end of Light. Yet death is necessary so that life may flourish - it is a cycle that Morai understands well, for she has watched it from afar for many millennia. She looks into the new Son, and sees how the remnants of the past Daughter within him ensure that he will not tumble, unhinged, into chaos and destruction.
Morai turns her head to watch the new Father, who, in the physical world, is quickly becoming one with the air around him, his body turning into the same blue-green mist which formed the Dagger of Mortis. Morai understands that the blue-green mist is simply a solid, corporeal manifestation of the Force itself, and that is why the new Father cannot die either - he cannot re-become what he already is.
She observes all this, and knowing well that the three Jedi are in turmoil, she projects her understanding of these concepts towards them. She senses a change in the Force as they sense the knowledge she has given them. It feels calmer now in the cockpit - the Force is no longer writhing in confusion, but rather swirling more calmly, a slow whirlwind of Light, Dark, and Balance entwining between the three of them.
Yet there is still chaos - chaos over the revelation of their immortality. Morai remembers the similar revelation that the past Force Wielders had undergone thousands of years ago. Morai sends what consolation she can to the Jedi through the Force, but there is not much she can do. They must work this out on their own.
Hours pass. Morai watches as the Jedi slowly open their eyes, moving their limbs stiffly after sitting in the same position for so long. She glances at the navicomputer. The alphabet is foreign to her, but she comprehends the meaning. Thirty-five minutes to hyperspace exit.
"Are you both alright?" The new Father asks of his companions.
The new Daughter nods slightly, rolling her shoulders with a small wince. "I'm better."
The new Son is quiet, taking longer than his companions to rise from the floor. The new Father seems to notice this and reaches out a hand, squeezing the younger man's shoulder gently. "We'll be fine as long as we stay together," he says with a confidence that Morai can sense he doesn't feel.
At the words of the new Father, the new Son cracks a smile, sending out his appreciation through the Force and raising his hand to grasp the new Father's hand on his shoulder. "Admit it, old man," the new Son says with a disarming smile that's a little too faked, "You'd be lost without Ahsoka and I around to always save your skin."
The three Jedi fall back into their usual bickering, the Force swirling lazily around the cockpit with the comforting feeling of homefamilylove, and Morai looks on with approval.
(On the other side of the galaxy, Darth Sidious meditates aboard his ship. There is much preparation to be done for the ritual.)
T-minus five minutes to real space.
"I have a bad feeling about this."
Anakin chuckles. "You always say that."
Another short laugh, this time from Obi-Wan, who strokes his beard, face pensive. "I do," he admits. "But can't you sense it?"
A frown, and silence. Then, quietly, "I do."
And behind Anakin, from Ahsoka: "There's something more to this mission than I can sense."
A shared glance between her masters: uneasy, tense, unsure.
"If I Fall-" Anakin's breath hitches. His eyes are flecked with gold. "Help me."
Neither Ahsoka nor Obi-Wan hesitate when they respond with,
"Always."
From real space, Dathomir is a glowing red, pulsing in the Force with a strange, prickly feeling that feels unlike anything Ahsoka has ever sensed before. Even from this distance - miles and miles away in space - it feels like the Force there is crawling over the planet, caressing it in a suffocating blanket of what Ahsoka can only define as weird.
During the journey, she'd had a light headache that she'd been able to ignore. It begins to intensify now, going from a gentle throb to a sharp, prickling feeling, and she feels her eyes beginning to burn. Unbidden, she winces, her pain sharp in the Force.
"Ahsoka?"
She waves Anakin off. "I'm fine," she lies, but when she turns to look at him, she's startled by the colour of his eyes. They're a pure, molten gold, rimmed with the sharp crimson reminiscent of the colour of Ventress' lightsabers. Her eyes flicker to Obi-Wan's, and she sees that his eyes have begun to glow blue-green, shining with an intensity that leaves little trails of blue-green light whenever he moves his head.
It's strange. She could swear that it isn't only the glow of his eyes but also part of his eyes and his face that fades into a blue-green glow that trails after him, making his features seem almost distorted and almost - but not quite - human.
"Your eyes have changed," Obi-Wan observes. "Am I correct in assuming that you both are beginning to feel more and more… unwell?"
Ahsoka tries to lie again. She's fine - she's dealt with worse - but Morai screeches, the sound sharp and cutting, and Ahsoka flinches.
Okay. No lie, then.
"I have," she admits at the same time Anakin answers with a short, "Yeah."
"I suspect it may be connected to the way the Force has been shaped by the Nightsisters on Dathomir." Obi-Wan strokes his beard, turning back to face the cockpit window.
"But if we're this affected while we're miles away in space," Ahsoka asks slowly, "what's going to happen when we get into the atmosphere?"
She looks down at her lap, where she's folded her hands, and she quickly looks up again. The way her fingertips are beginning to shine white-gold hurts her eyes, and the way her fingers and hands seemed to elongate a little too much isn't something she wants to look at.
She stares out of the cockpit window. In the reflection of the transparisteel, Ahsoka sees the vague, blurry form of Anakin with a mouth that slashes open his face with a sharp red and with wrinkled gargoyle wings folded behind his back. "As Obi-Wan said earlier," he says wryly, and though she knows Anakin isn't smiling - she can hear it in his voice - his reflection is, the bloody lips in the transparisteel pulling back to reveal too many teeth, "I have a bad feeling about this."
The moment the ship breaks the atmosphere, they hunch in their seats as one, reeling at the sudden pain.
The Force is different here. After having shaped the planet to their will for the past thousands of years, the Nightsisters have changed the atmosphere, charging it with their magicks and making the Force feel raw and primal in comparison to the calm murmur or the silent tumult that is Coruscant. It's almost like Mortis - the Force is strong here, only unlike Mortis, it feels… different, tainted by continuous and deliberate manipulation over the thousands of years.
Ahsoka curls in on herself at the sudden onslaught of her senses. It's too much, too much - it feels like her skin is being burned from within, her muscles ripping and tearing. Pain sears at her mind too, pushing at her mental shields, pushing outwards, and she's distantly aware that someone is screaming. She thinks it might be her, but she can't really tell - her bonds with her masters are alight with pain too, and she can hear them, she can hear them, she didn't know they could scream that way-
Then the pain ends, leaving her gasping for air that she doesn't need to breathe anymore to live, and when she catches her own reflection in the cockpit window, she sucks in a breath.
Her eyes are not blue but green, green as the summer grass, green like the colour of jade, and green like the Daughter's eyes.
The inside of the cockpit is awash with the white-gold Light which shines from her skin. She can still feel the burn of the light under her skin, searing her nerves, but it feels distant and far-off, like a dull simmer that's easy to ignore if she doesn't think about it too hard.
She feels serene. A deep calm has settled over her - she can already sense her own acceptance of the circumstances. Clearly, as she had suspected, something in the Force on Dathomir has changed her and her masters, making it harder to hide their true forms. Such is the Will of the Force.
She should be unsettled. She should be trying to reign it in, trying to pull back her power so that she'll seem normal. She should be terrified.
She isn't.
(She can't be in this state.)
And that should unsettle her - why isn't she afraid?
Why can't she be afraid?
When Obi-Wan finally comes to in the cockpit of the Twilight, the ship is still flying, on its way to a rocky landing with no one manning the controls.
Force.
He hopes he never has to hear his padawans scream like that again.
Most of the cockpit is awash with a soft white-gold light, illuminated by the glow coming from Ahsoka's skin. She gasps, opening her eyes, and he sees that they are a shining green, brighter than it was before they entered the atmosphere. From her back, large convor-like wings shine, spreading across her side of the cockpit, before she concentrates and the wings disappear in a shimmer of light.
(It almost hurts to look in Ahsoka's direction.)
A blue-green mist spreads around Obi-Wan, held together in the vague shape of what his body should look like. He looks down, brows furrowed, and tries to remember what it's like having a solid body and not one that's partially One with the Force.
He can't remember.
Although he's able to draw it in enough so that the mist forms a shape similar to what a human body should look like, it stubbornly remains, refusing to coalesce into solid limbs, and after a few frustrating moments, he resigns himself to looking like a thrice-cursed ghost.
(It's hard to tell where his limbs end and the mist begins.)
The Force is strange in the cockpit. On one side, the calm, unyielding Light emanating from Ahsoka is nearly unnerving in its serenity. He's reminded abruptly of her words, just a few days ago, as she told him of her experience as Morai. I couldn't feel afraid, she'd said. I didn't feel like a person. I felt like something else.
On the other side, the Force is a roiling, seething mass of angerhatredragefear, and Obi-Wan turns with some dread to face Anakin. It isn't anything he hasn't seen before, but to see it now on full display rather than seeing it in flickers in the Force is… unnerving, to say the least. Anakin's eyes are a burning gold, his skin ashen, and his face looks mutilated with how it's slashed open by a mouth that opens too wide to reveal too many rows of venomous teeth. Half of Anakin's body is incorporeal, dissolving into the large shadows cast by his wings, giving the impression of his skin melting into the darkness of the ship. His eyes snap towards Obi-Wan, haterageterror flickering through them and around his Force-presence, and Obi-Wan knows with a chilling certainty that Anakin is just inches away from truly Falling.
He does not hesitate. He dives through their training bond, calling to Ahsoka for help, and he searches for the seed of Light that he knows is within Anakin while sending his former padawan as much lovecarehope as he can through their bond. Part of Anakin rebels, pushing against him, and he lashes out, crimson lightning slashing through the air to bear down on Obi-Wan. It's too fast, too close-
A hand shoots from beside him and Ahsoka catches the lighting, curling her fingers against the onslaught. "Master!" she shouts, and part of Anakin falters enough for him to come back to his senses for a split second.
Help me, he sends weakly through the Force, then it's gone, disappeared in a raging storm of fear and anger. The shadows in the ship flicker, rising ominously, and beside Obi-Wan, he senses the Force pulsing as Ahsoka calls on the Light, the white-gold glow from her skin intensifying to chase away the crawling shadows.
Obi-Wan grits his teeth, feeling the rumble of the ship. They're running out of time.
The Force swirls around him as he calls to it, entrenching himself in it, and he reaches out to Anakin through their bond.
Light, he thinks. Find the Light.
In his meditation during the trip to this planet, he had come to the realization that part of the reason Anakin had not fully Fallen was because he had been a conduit of the Daughter. A part of her Light resides in him still, and if Obi-Wan can find that, if he can bring it to the surface alongside the strength he can lend Anakin and the Light Ahsoka can give-
There.
Amongst the devastating whirlwind of darkness that stands before him, Obi-Wan catches a glimpse of the smallest white-gold - a trace of the Daughter's Light. He lunges through the Dark that claws at him, ripping at his presence, snarling at how he is unwanted, and he grasps the Light and pulls.
And a new presence appears. Ahsoka, a shining beacon in the Force, appears, sending wave after wave of her own Light into the Light that is in Anakin. Distantly, Obi-Wan hears a gasp, and he's pulled back into the real world just in time to see Anakin's eyes flash white-gold before returning back to their golden colour.
This time, when Anakin looks at them, it's with recognition and guilt rather than terror and fear.
"I'm sorry-" he begins, but the ship lurches, catching their attention as they see the rapidly approaching ground outside the transparisteel window.
"It's not your fault," Obi-Wan says, but they need to move. "For now, the ship."
There's no time to grab the controls. The ship is descending too quickly - it's a wonder it hasn't broken apart. Even Master Yoda would be incapable of controlling this ship with the Force at this rate.
But there's three of them.
And they aren't only Jedi anymore.
There's no words that need to be exchanged. No plans need to be shouted. They fall into the Force in tandem, palms upheld, and they clench their fingers and command the ship to slow.
There's a great shudder. The ship protests, metal creaking as some unseen grip wraps around the hull, and it begins to slow its descent to the ground. Obi-Wan can sense every fiber of the ship straining as it is pulled between their telekinetic grip and gravity, and he falls deeper and deeper into the Force, willing for the ship to hold together and to stop.
The ship jerks, moving in such a way that would have thrown them all off their feet and into the walls had they still been normal. The view outside the cockpit window begins to slow, more and more, until it sets down on the ground of Dathomir with a gentle thump, kicking up a ring of dust with its unorthodox landing.
If Obi-Wan had been in a corporeal form, he would have let out a breath of relief. As it is, he's deeply aware of every fiber of the ship, of how the metal outside the hull is scalding hot from the uncontrolled re-entry into the atmosphere and of how the different levers and buttons inside the cockpit are flashing. He concentrates, trying - and failing - to remember what in the universe a solid body should look like, and he pulls back at the blue-green mist that permeates every corner of the cockpit and manages to make it coalesce into a passable semblance of a human body. The deep awareness of the ship fades, replaced by a gentle murmur of his surroundings in the Force.
"Well," he says into the silence, still human enough to feel high on adrenaline, "shall we greet the Nightsisters?"
The answering grins from his padawans are as dark as the stark emptiness of space and as bright as a dying nova star.
From a distance, Ventress stares at the trail of smoke which rises from where she had just seen the crashing ship.
"Asajj, are you alright?" Karis asks in concern.
Ventress shakes her head. None of her sisters know. None of them understand what she has just seen. They had seen the ball of flame approaching from the atmosphere, yes, and they had seen how it had slowed down from what seemed to be an inevitable crash, but they hadn't seen how the Force had whipped around the ship swirling in a harmony of Light and Dark that would be beautiful if it wasn't so terrifying. Compared to that power, even Count Dooku or Mother Talzin seem weak.
Ventress had never seen anything like it, and she fears that she knows exactly what is in that ship.
She'd sensed their presences. Of course she had - how could she ever forget those Jedi? But they'd been distinctly off, inhuman, like something beyond her understanding. She has no desire for revenge against Kenobi and his padawans anymore - not like she'd shed a tear if they'd died - but she fears that she's beginning to understand that there is more to them than she'd initially thought.
Karis sucks in a breath. Ventress senses it too - the hairs on her arms raise and a chill shoots down her back, sending her a sharp warning deep in her bones that she can't ignore.
She knows without a doubt that the gods that the sisters worship have just set foot on Dathomir.
"Oh," Karis says with a small voice, and at her side, Naa'leth's eyes are wide.
Ventress turns, intending to seek out Mother Talzin. "That is what I sensed, sisters."
Across the galaxy, Sidious emerges from hyperspace, his presence carefully masked. Even from this distance, miles and miles away from space, he can sense the sheer power on Jedha from the vast amounts of Kyber deep in the planet's crust.
There are Jedi on this planet. All the better for him - as Lord Vitiate had taught, the stronger the planet in the Force, the more potent the ritual will be.
A true smile spreads across his face, and he begins his descent to the planet.
Now.
The ritual of Jedha, the Jedi Order has taken to calling it, naming it in a similar manner to the same ritual that had devastated the planet of Nathema thousands of years ago. Whatever the Sith Lord had done had completely ripped even the Force from the Pilgrim Moon, leaving it a void in the Force that makes all Jedi sick whenever they enter what's left of the atmosphere. While the clones are unaffected by the void in the Force, even they can sense that something is distinctly wrong with the planet.
They've been scouring the area for weeks. Master Fisto returns for his third shift of the month, and it speaks volumes when his troops see that his normally sunny smile is gone; in its place is a bone-deep weariness that they hope never to see again.
Still, he musters what strength he has and pushes it to his men before they enter the atmosphere. It seems to do something - their shoulders straighten, their backs stiffen, and they glance at him with concern.
"Will you be alright, General?" asks Commander Monnk. Kit turns his head, trying to give his Commander a smile. It doesn't really work, and comes out feeling more like a grimace.
"I will be," he admits.
He braces himself for entry into the atmosphere. The moment it happens, he cries out and stumbles, his hand inadvertently letting go of the handles hanging above their head in the gunship. Commander Monnk is there to catch him, already having seen Kit go through this twice before.
"I'm sorry," Kit says, stabilizing himself and trying to clear his head of the stabbing emptiness that bombards his senses. "I thought-"
"Stop taking too much on yourself, General," another one of his men says gruffly.
"I knew we should've taken a ship that had seats in it," mutters another.
Despite the cold nothingness that permeates every inch of his body, Kit smiles, a little warmed by the compassion his men hold for him. It soon fades as the ship descends.
The Force is gone here. There's a complete absence of light and dark - there's just… nothing. The only thing he can even sense is the sliver of Kyber in his saber. The first time Kit had entered the atmosphere, he had nearly thrown up, and he had immediately commed the Council to forbid any Jedi ranked as a Knight or under from entering this planet. When he'd finally left the atmosphere, he'd cried from the relief of feeling the Force around him again, and he had terrified the living daylights out of his troops from such a strong display of emotion. Commander Monnk had yelled at him for hours afterwards while the rest of his men had nodded along resolutely, demanding why in the universe Kit did not tell them he had been suffering the entire time on planet. He'd let them go off, but when the time had come, Kit had not hesitated to step back onto the planet for a second time. There were lives that could be saved, and damned if he didn't help them.
But it's beginning to feel futile. They'd been searching for weeks, and they'd only found two survivors - a pair of children huddled together deep in one of the mining caverns, surviving off of stolen rations and biscuits. They'd been incredibly weak, on the brink of death, and only quick action had managed to bring them from near-death to critical.
The gunship finally swoops to ground level, opening its doors to allow the squad to search the area on the ground while it continues an air sweep. They're searching the Holy City this time - a place that all Jedi had been avoiding for fear of sensing the especially piercing absence of the Force in this place. But Kit is a Jedi Master, and he must do this not just for the Jedi, but also for the people of the Whills.
The search goes for hours. Kit finds himself being forced to stop and take a rest much more often than usual, his breath coming short and fast in the dead air of what used to be a thriving city. There aren't even any bodies left - they had crumbled to dust during the ritual, leaving behind a massive city that's so silent it seems deafening. The only sounds Kit can hear are the scuffing of their boots and the gentle rustle of his robes.
The streets are startlingly bare. Traces of its inhabitants are still there - a flowerpot with a dead, wilted plant stands on a windowsill, the shriveled thing still pointed towards the pale sun. Clothing left unattended has fallen off clotheslines, littering the streets and slumped over chairs. Small tables and chairs outside what used to be restaurants stand still, a teacup still present on the table, the teabag long blown away by the wind and the liquid long evaporated by the sun's rays. For what must be the thousandth time, Kit feels a choking feeling on his throat as he sees the sheer amount of loss around him. Unable to release his emotions into the Force, but still trained enough not to fall apart, Kit keeps walking forward, allowing the moisture falling from his eyes and into the dirt to be a tribute to those who have been killed by the vile actions of a Sith.
They search for hours. The air around the Holy City feels stale and dead, making Kit's head-tails feel overwhelmingly dry. It doesn't take long for him to develop a headache. Still, he pushes forward, drawing on the little spark of light in the Force that he can sense in the Kyber crystal of his lightsaber for strength.
Two hours later, they're beginning to wane. None of the teams have reported any success in locating any survivors, instead finding nothing but a sharp emptiness that makes every city on this moon feel like a ghost city. Kit has long given up on some of his restraint - he allows the weariness to show like a huge weight on his shoulders, and more than once, his men have attempted to convince him to get off-planet.
But he needs to stay. He feels- not a twitch in the Force, but rather something his men would call a gut feeling - that's urging him to stay. There's a little spark of hope deep in his chest that has him wanting to keep going.
Then they hear a voice, and footsteps.
Those don't belong to him or any of the clones.
"Kyber!" an unknown voice calls out, and the clones quickly turn to face the new voice, their hands ready to draw their blasters should it be necessary. "There- Kyber-"
Then, stumbling into view, two very young, emaciated men in ragged clothes appear, their sleeves bearing the crest of the Guardians of the Whills.
Kit cries. There's no shame in his actions - relief and joy, mixed with a deep sorrow, blooms in his chest at the sight of finding the survivors. "Guardians!" he calls to them. They turn their heads, and Kit sees with a start that one of the boys is blind.
Several of the clones exclaim in relief, their hands moving from their blaster to their medipacks, ready to provide relief. "We're friendlies!" They shout. "We're with the Jedi!"
It doesn't take long to quickly get the two onto a gunship for medical treatment. They're starved, dehydrated, and only days away from death. The moment the gunship exits the atmosphere, Kit stumbles with the sheer relief at feeling the Force swirling around him again, dark as it is. Near him, the blind boy - Chirrut Îmwe - gasps sharply, tears gathering in unseeing eyes, and Kit marvels at how Chirrut was able to survive on a planet devoid of the Force. Beside him, the other boy, a gruff one named Baze Malbus, is already unconscious, finally having succumbed to weeks of exhaustion.
Feeling more invigorated by the sudden influx of the Force and by their success in finding some survivors, Kit comms his flagship. "I want another sweep of the planet. We've found two survivors - there may be more nearby."
There's a strange movement in the Force near him and Chirrut speaks up, his voice soft.
"There's no need, Master Jedi."
Kit turns to him, nonplussed. "I'm sorry?"
"There is no one else left. Can you not sense it?"
Chirrut says it with such firm conviction it nearly brings Kit to tears once more. For all the inhabitants of the moon to be gone - gone, left even without the Force - is something that has continued to hit Kit in the gut, time and time again.
He can sense it. Chirrut is right.
He doesn't want to acknowledge it.
He orders a scan again. It comes back empty.
(It's only a day later that he realizes that Order 66 had gone out throughout the galaxy on the day he found Chirrut and Baze. Kit looks at the thin white scars on the heads of his men, and he silently thanks Ahsoka Tano for finding the chips and bringing it to the attention of the Jedi.)