The summer rains had come early to Alderaan that year, the warm monsoons washing away the last fields of winter's snow. Spectacular electrical storms arced across the sky above Aldera, with the thunderheads brooding above the peaks of the high ranges to the north and east. Around the city, the rains flooded the fields, spurring concern among the farmers on the fate of the harvest. Such were the complaints of most Alderaanians, sequestered as they were from the tumult of galactic politics. A free society, favored by climate, technology, ethics, and centuries of philosopher kings, the center of free thought and democratic spirit remained largely untroubled, even as the Empire grew ever bolder.

The King of Alderaan accepted that he would bear the burden of worry for the people whom he served, so that they might be free to grouse about crop yields even as his burdens grew. The Empire grew bolder; the bulwarks against tyranny grew weaker. Having stood in the eye of the hurricane during the last days of the Republic, he knew better than most what was at stake. Of all his charges, one stood out as critical to the long battle ahead. Not only was his burden for her a burden of love; it was a burden of responsibility. She did not know it, but the galaxy waited eagerly for the moment when she could take up the torch and lead them from darkness.

While he met in secret with his closest allies, she slept, nestled into a luxurious nest of pillows and dolls. She dreamt, unconcerned and unencumbered, shielded from the weight of responsibility until the last possible moment. She might have slept through until dawn, had the thunderbolt not struck the lightning rod atop the palace, spurring her out of deep sleep. She awoke with a start, listening as the violent crack echoed across the valley. She looked to the rain-streaked window, her breathing fast and her heart pounding. Light flashed in the distance, and as she recognized that it was only a storm, her anxiety settled.

The anxiety did not give way into sleepiness once again. Instead, she watched the flashes of light play across the ceiling, casting fanciful shadows blurred by the rain streaking the windows. In the shadows, she began to imagine the pieces of the game that father was teaching her. For the first five years of her life, she had no interest, until one day, at age six, she watched her father in concentration, in contest with a close family friend. She watched the two men for nearly an hour, wondering at their concentration. They had not noticed her nearby, and it was a shock to Bail Organa to see his daughter thoroughly enraptured in their Shah-tezh contest.

Shortly after, Bail began to teach his daughter the ancient strategy game, describing the various pieces, their function, their movements, their strategic importance. Within a day, she understood the rules. Within three days, she battled him to a stalemate. Within a week, she beat him more than he beat her. She became the talk of the palace; the child Shah-tezh prodigy, an early adept, master of the game. Yet, as Bail Organa watched her match and then defeat some of Alderaan's most skilled players within months of playing the game, he grew concerned, worrying over whether it was a natural skill or some other natural ability that fueled her success. And if it was one particular ability, how long would it be before more than just the Alderaanian populace learned of her gifts.

Bail had forbidden her from playing, much to Leia's anger. He had promised he would allow her to play again soon, but she had no way of knowing what he was protecting her from. Not one to take no for an answer, Leia had developed a habit of sneaking into her father's study every chance she had, and so cunning had she become at doing so that her mother had tasked a tiny L0-LA59 droid to follow her to ensure that she was not sneaking off again instead of attending to her lessons.

And when the thunder woke her from her deep sleep, and when her mind drifted to thoughts of Viziers and Beasts, Leia looked to the window where L0-LA was docked. She closed her eyes in concentration, using the secret that only she knew about, and L0-LA's light went from blue to dark. She stood up and moved forward tentatively, and L0-LA remained dark. Satisfied that the droid would not reactivate, she crept from the room, opening her door carefully so as not to attract any attention.

She crept down the halls of the palace, ducking into alcoves whenever a cleaning droid would pass through the halls ahead of her or behind her. She followed the well-worn path to her father's study, and to her surprise, the door was open. A warm, orange flickering danced within the study, and she peaked in. On the far end of the study, inside her father's office, she could see a light on, and the fire within the study roared – an unusual sight this late into the night. She had never known her father to stay up so late, and she peaked in, hoping to catch a glimpse of whom he entertained. Looking through the partially opened door, she saw a head of red hair blocking his father, and next to the human with the red hair, she saw a figure, cloaked in white. The cloak covered what looked like a pair of horns. Leia was not surprised; her father knew the most interesting people. But why would he be entertaining them at this hour.

She pushed a few inches further into the room, taking care not to cause the old wooden door to creak. She stuck her head into the room, and she turned her gaze to the right. There, in the darkened reading room, she saw the Shah-tezh board set and ready for match. She gazed again toward her father, and she had the sense that he was deep into a contentious conversation and that he would not notice her. Her fears of discovering whispered against her impulse, and her impulse, howling above the insistent whisperings of her better judgment, urged her through the doorway. She squeezed her lithe frame through the door, and padded away silently toward the alcove.

She reached the Shah-tezh demesne and squeezed her tiny body into the chair. Excitement coursed through her as she leaned over to examine the pieces. There were all of her favorites; the Knight, dashing and bold, free to move where he wanted, but bound by limits; the Vizier, moving freely on the diagonal, powerful and bold, but mysterious and indirect; the Counselor, grave, wise, and unknowable; the Soldiers, forgotten, but always remembered once they were in short supply; and the Beast, fiery and frightening, yet more powerful. One piece always drew her fascination more than any other; the Imperator. She understood the goal of the game; her father explained that the rest of the pieces were there to serve the Imperator. Leia had asked her father if he was an Imperator, too, and he laughed, but seemed troubled at the same time. Her father had often laughed while seeming troubled lately, especially where Shah-Tezh was concerned.

She looked again toward the open door where her father continued to talk into the night with his friends. He could hear them, distantly, indistinctly, droning on about grown-up things and grown-up worries. Secure in knowing that they would keep doing so for a long time, as grown-ups always did, Leia reached across the board and touched the knight. As she did so, an image flashed across her mind; she saw a man, blond-haired and blue-eyed. The man pulled her toward her and swung out into the voice, holding her to him. The image vanished suddenly, and Leia, startled and shocked at the image, withdrew her hand. Her breathing was heavy, and she was scared at what she had just seen; that had never happened before. As the rain continued to pour in sheets down the window, and the grown-ups continued their discussions, her breathing settled, and in place of her fear, curiosity, and something like daring, emerged. Looking back toward her father's office once again, she reached her hand out once more to touch another piece, this time the soldier.

Again, an image flashed across her mind, and she saw a woman with short hair filled with excitement and impatience. She had an eagerness to her, as if she needed badly to find an answer. Leia withdrew her hand, and the vision vanished once again. Excitement grew in Leia. The game had been fascinating before, but if she was going to see exciting pictures in her mind every time she touched a piece. . .

She touched the Vizier, and an image of a child, bald, shining white light appeared. He turned toward her, frowning. She withdrew her hand; that child did not look like a fun child to play with. She touched the Knight, and a young man with blue eyes and sandy hair appeared, reaching out to her before swinging across a chasm. She reached for the Beast, and an image of a vast armada of ships arose in her mind, hurtling through space. She touched the Outcast, and the image of a man with blue skin and glowing red eyes appeared. That one scared her, and she hesitated before touching the next one. The Dowager had always bored her the most, and the image of an older woman, seated behind a desk, speaking to more boring old grown-ups appeared. She touched the Counselor, and an image flashed in her mind of a massive, gray-skinned creature with milky white eyes and a long, gray beard lying injured in the sand. Finally, her curiosity at its peak, she touched the Imperator, and there, she saw a girl, much like her, but darker, stranger. The girl was angry, but also lonely. And with the girl was another woman, one who felt very familiar. She puzzled at the image. Which was the Imperator?

Having worked her way through all of her own pieces, she became curious about the pieces on the other side. The Imperator had been the most intriguing for her, and wondering what the Imperator on the dark half of the board might be, she reached across the demesne and touched the black, robed piece.

The vision that emerged consumed the light from the room, as terror flooded Leia. Darkness swirled through an endless voice, and a deep, booming voice laughed, its echo trailing off into infinity. A decaying, rotten hand reached out from below a hood, and she heard a hissing voice say, Organa. . . It was the image of her nightmares, one that appeared repeatedly, precipitating screaming fits that required hours of comforting late into the night, followed by the soothing warm milk that always put her back to sleep again. She had a name for him, but it was not one she would tell anybody. She would never dare to say his name aloud, for saying the words Shadow Man would bring him to life. And if he came to life, he would find her.

Leia's screaming filled the silence of her father's study. Seconds later, her father raced out, along with a woman with red-hair and the cloaked, horned stranger. Leia curled into a ball within her chair, screaming at the top of her lungs. The lights went on, she felt hands touching her. She thrashed about, attempting to wave the hand away, fearing it would be decayed and rotten. She heard voices, some afraid, some urgent, but she could not understand them through all of the screaming. Her panic mounted and grew, until, suddenly, a hand touched her shoulder, and everything went dark.

"What are you not telling me, Bail?" spoke the woman. Her blue and white montrals tinged orange by the crackling fire. Her blue eyes bored into Senator Organa, who shifted uncomfortably, trying to seek a way to avoid the question. She raised her eyes, scrunching her orange and white forehead, as if to tell him that no amount of squirming and evading would make her forget what she had just seen.


Leia had been put to bed and dosed with moon milk, and after escorting Mon Mothma to her temporary quarters, she had cornered him, and informed him in terms of utmost certainty that the night would not end without answers. Sensing the powerful Jedi insight and the scrutinizing gaze of his old friend, Bail resigned to tell Ahsoka Tano the truth.

"We adopted her shortly after the Jedi fell. We took her in because we wanted a daughter, but we also knew we would have to protect her," he said, his voice weary and tired.

"She's force-sensitive," Ahsoka said, and then, narrowing her eyes, she added, "And there's more, isn't there?"

"Yes, there's more," Bail said, and then, shifting uncomfortably once again, he said, "But I'd rather not share that at this time."

"Why not?" Ahsoka said, crossing her arms and leaning back into her chair.

Bail sighed as he read the intransigence in her posture. "Because the fewer people who know, the better. As of now, only four beings in the galaxy know, and given how important she will one day be, even four is too many."

Ahsoka narrowed her eyes further, and she uncrossed her arms and leaned forward. Bail leaned back, defensively, and said, "Don't you dare, Ahsoka."

"Bail, I'm risking my life every day, keeping the deepest secrets for you and thousands of others. If you think I'm untrustworthy. . ." Ahsoka said, a hint of heat in her voice.

"It's not you. As Fulcrum, you are always in danger," Ahsoka shifted, and Bail raised his hands, his voice rising as he said, "And don't think I don't appreciate every second of it. What you are doing, who you are helping. I wish I could be there, too. But I have my mask and you have yours." He paused, reading some appeasement in her body language before continuing. "At any rate, should something happen to you, Force forbid it, and the Empire was to find out what we're hiding here. . ."

Ahsoka's eyes raised, but her expression became quite sober. She ran through a quick inventory of people whom the Empire would want more than anybody, and after herself, Master Kenobi, and Master Yoda, the list of people that would alarm Bail Organa this much ended quickly. And those three were all accomplished Jedi, threats to the Emperor's power. What threat could this child possibly pose?

Unless.

A stray memory passed through her mind, and her practice insight recognized that the memory was bourn on the currents of the Force. She tended to the memory, wherein she watched her former Master smiling at the Senator from Naboo. She smiled back. It was a quick moment, yet something in that smile. . .

"Anakin," Ahsoka whispered.

Bails eyes went wide in fear, confirming Ahsoka's blossoming suspicion.

"Are you telling me. . ." Ahsoka began, and Bail Organa, knowing that there was no walking back, admitted it.

"Alright, alright. There's no use keeping secrets from a Jedi," Bail said, exacerbated by his failure at keeping the secret.

"I'm not a Jedi," Ahsoka retorted.

Bail waved the correction away and said, "Anakin and Senator Amidala married in secret, and Padme had a child. Padme died in childbirth, and we took her here to raise her in secret. If the Emperor knew who she was, what she is. . ."

"She's his daughter," Ahsoka said, repeating it in wonder and terror. She knew that the Emperor would stop at nothing to find her, and if she had a fraction of Anakin's power, she would be a formidable threat to the Emperor's stranglehold on the galaxy.

"Everything I do now, I do for two reasons. I don't want my daughter to grow up in this galaxy. I want her to live free, not under the fear that stormtroopers could tear down her door at any moment. And, I know, deep down, that one day it's going to be she who has to face what we're facing now. I want to make sure that, when that moment comes, she is not only ready, but the Empire will not know what hit them," Bail said, and Ahsoka had a profound sense of his love and responsibility as a father clashing with the knowledge that he would have to train somebody who could very well be the Chosen One.

Ahsoka sat with the revelation for a long time. She had long suspected Anakin's feelings for the Senator, and she had wondered at how daring he might be in testing the boundaries of his Knighthood. She knew that such a relationship would be catastrophic, and the Senator's pregnancy had caused a scandal prior to her death. All had believed that her children had died with her, a tragic end to a tragic life. But if Yoda and Obi-Wan had a hand in contriving that, it would have been convincing. It had to be convincing, for even the Emperor would have to believe that nothing of the Skywalker line had remained.

"What can I do?" Ahsoka asked.

"For now, keep the secret," Bail said. "One day, I may ask for more. You aren't the only one who can help, and there's more than just a secret protecting her here."

"I understand," Ahsoka said, and then, an idea occurred to her. "Bail, would you permit me to meet her?"

Bail frowned, still feeling anxiety at Ahsoka deducing the truth. However, he did not see any reason not to; in fact, Leia had already met her before when she was young. At that time, Bail was sure she would forget; her memory was much better now.

"Yes," Bail said. "Before you leave, I will bring you to her."


The rains had settled, leaving the skies above Aldera pristine in their clarity and freshness. A light layer of snow coated the highest peaks, and the downpour had charged the waterfalls spilling from the hanging valleys of the high cirques and basins. Leia awoke, her L0-LA droid buzzing excitedly. She deduced its messages from its beeps and slurs, and she groaned through her grogginess. Dimly, she remembered another nightmare, and she saw the half-empty glass of moon milk set on her nightstand.

"Who wants to see me?" she grumbled to L0-LA's urgings, and L0-LA's response of a Togrutan delegate did nothing to spur Leia's curiosity, nor did it make her more eager to get out of bed.

A knock on the door indicated that somebody had heard the ruckus that L0-LA had made, and Leia knew she was not getting out of meeting another boring dignitary this time.

"I'm sleeping," she called out, and to her annoyance, the door opened. She rolled over, burying the blankets over her head.

"My love, there's somebody hear whom I would like you to meet," her father said, his voice also sounding rather tired.

"I'm sleeping!" Leia whined back.

"Clearly," said the female voice, who added, "I guess I will have to come back to meet the girl who defeated the dreaded Shadow Man another time."

A mixture of fear and curiosity hit Leia in tandem, and she threw the covers back as she rose to an upright position, instantly alert.

"What did you say?" Leia asked, her voice raised. Standing next to her father, she saw the alien female with twin horns protruding from her head. Her skin was orange and red, and she wore a white cloak. Her blue eyes were piercing, and Leia found it difficult not to stare at them. The woman smiled and turned to her father. He nodded to her and turned to Leia, saying, "I'll see you downstairs for breakfast, my love," before vanishing out the door.

For a moment, the woman regarded Leia curiously, and as Leia became impatient, she said, "My name is Ahsoka. I'm a friend of your fathers'."

"I know," Leia said, skeptically. "I saw you last night."

"Yes," Ahsoka said, then added, "I asked your father if I could meet you. He told me about the Shadow Man, and I thought I might be able to help."

Leia rolled her eyes and crossed her arms, angry that her father told yet another stranger about her nightmares. She had endured a steady stream of specialists, each of whom tried ridiculous things to try to help her stop having nightmares. The only things that worked so far were L0-LA being around, her mother sleeping in her bed, and moon milk. Her mother said she was getting too old for that, and the doctors said she could only have moon milk when she absolutely needed it. So, L0-LA it was. She did not think some crackpot with orange skin would help.

"What do you know about it?" Leia shot back.

"Well," Ahsoka said, and she sat down on a chair next to Leia's bed. "I've known a lot of Shadow Men in my day. You see, I know how to fight them off. I know their weaknesses."

"Do you corner them with the knight?!" Leia said, suddenly excitable at the prospect of discussing Shah-Tezh.

"Yes, you do. And with Viziers, Beasts, and Counselors. Soldiers, too. In fact, you need the whole board to really defeat a Shadow Man," Ahsoka said, and Leia nodded, showing the stranger that she knew exactly what it took to corner the Imperator.

Ahsoka smiled at Leia's excitability, then added, "But the Shadow Man you're seeing. . . well, he's a little different. He doesn't play on the same kind of board, and he doesn't respect the rules."

"He cheats?!" Leia said, outraged.

"Oh yes, worse than anybody," Ahsoka said. "He will do any dirty thing to win. Lie. Cheat. Steal. You name it."

Leia was angry. It was one thing to want to win, but to ignore the rules? That was intolerable. Then, she became afraid, for if the Shadow Man who haunted her dreams wanted to cheat, what would he do to her?

Ahsoka read Leia's emerging fear, and she asked Leia, "Dear one, how do you see the Shadow Man?"

Leia cocked her head. Somehow, the specialists had never thought to ask her that question before. "The dream sight, of course."

Ahsoka nodded her head thoughtfully, and said, "Yes, I thought that might be the case."

"Do you know the dream sight?" Leia asked, her eyes wide with astonishment.

"I do," Ahsoka nodded.

"Do you have it, too?" Leia asked, eyes wider.

"Yes, I do," Ahsoka said.

Leia was awestruck, but slowly, confusion set in. "But what does this have to do with the Shadow Man?"

"All Shadow Men have the dream sight, too. But they don't respect it. They abuse it," Ahsoka said.

"That's not fair!" Leia said, indignantly.

"No, it is most certainly not," Ahsoka said seriously. "But, if you are using your dream sight, they can see you. Find you. If you close your dream eyes, they cannot find you."

Leia sat with Ahsoka's proclamation, attempting to puzzle out how she felt about it. She was partially reassured that there was a way to keep the Shadow Man out. But the dream sight also made her so good at Shah-Tezh.

"Does that mean I can't use the dream sight anymore?" Leia asked, saddened, her lip quivering slightly.

"I'm going to suggest that, for at least a little while, you close your dream eyes. One day, you will get to open them again, and when you do, there may be others who can show you how to do more than just see," Ahsoka said, smiling.

"Shadow men?" Leia asked, afraid.

"Oh, no," Ahsoka said, and sadness suffused her smile. "There are men, and women too – oh yes, so many women – made of light. And they can show you how to be full of light," Ahsoka explained, and once again, Leia's eyes were wide with wonder.

"Will you show me?" Leia said.

"I would be so lucky, and so honored," Ahsoka replied, nodding graciously, moved in ways that Leia could not possibly understand.

"And then. . . I'll be the greatest Shah-Tezh player ever! I'll even beat the shadow man!"

Ahsoka beamed at her, seeing her father's determination, her mother's passion, her adopted father's soulfulness, and the fiery spark of a Jedi in waiting. Suddenly, she understood Bail's fear and his hopes, and she knew that she would die keeping this secret, if it came to that. Here, in the midst of all the darkness in the galaxy, burned the brightest spark of hope.

Ahsoka leaned forward, placing her hand out. Leia reached forward, her suspicions and resentments abandoned. She placed her tiny hand in Ahsoka's hand, and Ahsoka closed her fingers around hers. Ahsoka's piercing blue eyes gazed deep into Leia's soft, brown eyes, and she said, "But for now, close those eyes. Take my hand, dear child, and let me show you. . ."