Anakin remembered his first journey to Ilum. It had happened soon after his arrival at the Jedi Temple, during a scheduled Gathering for the newest group of younglings. He had made an effort to get acquainted with some of them, but while friendly, the children had seemed too intimidated to interact with a boy several years older—already ostracized without even knowing it. Whether that had upset Anakin, he couldn't recall, as all of his subsequent memories related to his impressions of the new planet.

At first, he'd been stunned by the spacious white and blue caverns, for it was the first time in his life he had seen snow and ice. However, Anakin's awe had gradually transformed into disappointment, as he'd discovered that snow was little better than sand—it too had the annoying quality of sticking to his boots and clothes, but also left behind wet patches of fabric, making him freeze like during the coldest nights back home. Still, despite all of this, Ilum had left a lasting impression on Anakin, and in some ways, he'd found the place even more majestic, mysterious and welcoming than the Temple.

Many years later, he'd visited the planet several times as Darth Vader—usually to motivate workers and their superiors laboring in the kyber mines. The Empire had required enormous amounts of crystals for both Death Stars as well as some other projects, ravaging the ancient caves and destroying many of the sacred Jedi sites. But the Force could not be so easily defeated. It still imbued the place with its life energy, slowly but surely healing the wounds left on the frozen cave walls, and soon it would grow enough new kyber crystals for the next generation of Jedi to bond themselves with. Which, as it happens, tied directly into the purpose of Anakin's trip to Ilum.

Today, he had come here per Obi-Wan's request. The ghostly Jedi had instructed Anakin to seek a kyber crystal on Ilum and construct a new lightsaber, as the last major step to complete his training that would allow him to preserve eternal consciousness upon dying. When Anakin had asked Obi-Wan to be more precise regarding his quest, the spirit had simply looked at him and vanished, refusing to elaborate further. The man seemed to have become even more vague in death than he was in life, often leaving Anakin frustrated as he tried to navigate through the cryptic words of his former master. Nevertheless, the training had been going well thus far, and Anakin sensed relief knowing he would soon be done with the final task.

Unfortunately, convincing the authorities that he'd needed to leave for Ilum and create a new blade had been a quest in itself. Anakin's agreement with the Republic forbade him from owning a lightsaber, as though having a weapon on him would somehow make him more dangerous and prone to violence. The notion was ridiculous, of course. He had never needed a lightsaber to kill. Or the Force, for that matter. Naturally, Anakin had refrained from addressing that point during the talks, and eventually came up with the explanation of passing the weapon down onto Luke as a new family heirloom. It was a spontaneous, spur-of-the-moment solution; but as he meditated on the idea, Anakin actually started appreciating it more and more.

Anakin was aware that his old Jedi lightsaber had been dear to Luke's heart, as the only thing that had used to connect him with his own father. But the weapon was now gone—and even if they were able to somehow recover it, he still wouldn't give it back to Luke. Too many dark deeds had been done with this blade, and the thought of his son once again holding it in his hands made Anakin feel genuinely unsettled. One way or another, it was better left buried in the past.

Instead, he wanted to create something new to be remembered by—a symbol of his own salvation. Darth Vader had left behind a legacy of death and destruction, and nothing Anakin could create now would erase that fact—but at least it would serve as a reminder of the last few months he'd spent back in the Light. And if he somehow failed to make it to the netherworld of the Force after dying, at least Luke would still have something to connect him to the memory of his father.

When had he become so sentimental?

Instantly, a picture appeared in his mind's eye—a white talisman carved out of japor lying in his outstretched hand.

I made this for you. So you'd remember me.

Hmm.

Pulled from his thoughts, Anakin stopped as he came across a fork in the path. From here, the cave split in two, and he stilled, trying to determine his further course of action. All this time he had been following a barely tangible lead, a beacon that urged him to come closer and find it; but now, suddenly, it felt as though… as though it was moving towards him instead.

Next second, Anakin noticed movement ahead as a dark figure slowly emerged from behind the cave wall. A figure that he had encountered before, time and time again, within the depth of his own consciousness—which was probably why he wasn't surprised to meet it here again of all places.

Approaching him confidently was a tall young man dressed in black Jedi robes. He had wavy golden hair and piercing blue eyes, a thin scar adorning his right temple. One of his hands was clad in a dark glove, in which he held a lightsaber hilt, spinning it nonchalantly between his fingers. As he drew closer to Anakin, the man spread out his arms in an exaggerated greeting motion.

"Well, well, well," the Jedi drawled with a smirk, "if it isn't master Obi-Wan's biggest mistake."

Anakin frowned, already irritated at the all-too-familiar flippancy in his younger self's voice. Of course the Force would decide to challenge him by concocting some sort of absurd apparition.

"Apparition?" The Jedi raised his eyebrow in surprise. "Come on, that's no way to talk about yourself. Have some respect."

Anakin set his jaw. Had he truly once been so… insufferable?

The young man shrugged. "You aren't exactly pleasant to be around either, in case you didn't know."

Anakin knew better than to speak with visions, but felt the little patience he had already running out. "What do you want?" he demanded, scowling under his mask.

"That's funny," the Jedi said, "I was just about to ask you the same thing. What do you want?"

"To get this over with," Anakin growled, cutting the conversation short. This stupid charade wasn't worth his time. The faster he made the obnoxious vision dissipate, the sooner he would be able to return to his search for the kyber crystal.

Instinctively, he reached for his belt, despite knowing there was no weapon to be found there anymore…

Except it was there.

Bewildered, Anakin glanced down and saw his gloved fingers clasping a familiar steel cylinder attached to his belt. His old lightsaber.

His Sith lightsaber.

There was no time to question what was happening or how he was once again in possession of the weapon. Still looking down, Anakin felt an immediate threat approaching from the front, and let his honed reflexes do the work. In a split second, he ignited his lightsaber and raised it to meet the blow of another glowing blade—the one held by the illusory Jedi.

Anakin had expected the attack, as he'd already witnessed this scenario unfold dozens of times within his mind. Indeed, it wasn't his first battle against his younger self, be it a vision, a dream, or something in between—and each time their fight ended with him standing triumphantly over the body of the defeated Jedi.

This duel, he knew, would be no different.

"You didn't really answer my question," the young man spoke up again, studying Anakin from behind the crossed blades. "I know you want the crystal. That's why you came here, after all. But what do you want outside of that?"

Weapons pressed against each other, Anakin felt adrenaline rushing in his veins, as if oiling a rusty mechanism that'd laid dormant for months. There was something waking up in him, yearning for a fight; a desire that had been left unsatisfied for far too long. And it was taking him great effort to not give into it completely.

Forcibly, Anakin pushed his blade forward, making the Jedi leap away a short distance. For a moment the latter froze in place as he observed Anakin, his saber at the ready.

"I mean," he said, "why are you still here? Still alive. Still trying to do something. Pretending you know how to function outside of constant war and bloodshed. You know, all that stuff."

Once again, the Jedi rushed in and swung at Anakin with his lightsaber in a large arc, who deflected the attack effortlessly.

"You could've just asked them to end you on the spot and finally be done with this joke of a life, like you wanted all that time. And yet you didn't. Begged for the opposite, in fact." The man furrowed his brow. "For some reason, you decided that you wanted to stick around for one more year. What's keeping you here?"

Another series of swings, blades humming through the air as they clashed against each other. Anakin kept his ground, reluctant to go on the offensive, but something in him kept urging him to retaliate. To dive into a real fight. To silence the vision as soon as possible.

"It's the children, of course," his younger self continued, still unfazed. "Well, not just them. There's the padawan, too—though you can hardly call her that anymore. And… someone else." The man went quiet, as if listening to something. His face then lit up with understanding. "Ah. The good old captain. He isn't really eager to talk with you, is he? Can't say I blame him."

The Jedi lunged at Anakin from the side, forcing him to dodge and change his stance as he gripped the blade with both hands. Anakin had hoped to wait it out until the opponent would make a mistake and then secure a swift victory with a single precise blow to an unprotected spot, but the more time passed, the less appealing this strategy seemed. Teeth clenched, he proceeded to watch the Jedi, who once again took a brief pause in attacking.

"That's what keeps you here. The idea that maybe, you can somehow make it up to them. That maybe, you can help them out with something, or say a few nice words, and that'll be enough for them to remember you not as a heartless monster," he spat the words, "but as someone who at least tried not to be one."

Letting out a growl, Anakin finally felt something inside him snap as he rushed forward, bringing the lightsaber down on the Jedi in a wide motion. Some part of him was aware that the illusion was simply goading him, that he was giving into a provocation; but there was no other choice. He needed to distract himself from the words—whatever it would take.

"And the thing is," the young man went on as they traded blows, "you've been doing surprisingly well so far. Got to know your son better, sorted things out with the padawan. Even your daughter seems to hate you a little less now. Honestly, I'm impressed."

Anakin's swings became faster as he proceeded to advance on his enemy, heart beating like it was about to spring out of his chest. Suddenly, he found himself reveling in the adrenaline, ecstatic, exhilarated—how long had it been since he last had a proper fight? In their past duels with Luke, Anakin'd had to hold himself back against a less experienced opponent, but now he at last felt matched by someone of equal skill. Now, he finally was remembering what it was like to be in the midst of a real battle.

And it felt incredible.

"Things are looking up—just like they did back then, before the tragedy struck," the Jedi went on. "Before everything went wrong—because of you. You remember, right?"

Anakin focused completely on the euphoria of the fight, enjoying their back and forth as he overpowered the Jedi easily. There was no need for the battle to draw on longer than intended, and Anakin knew their duel would reach its proper conclusion soon—just after he would get enough of playing with his prey.

But then…

"It took you one single day to ruin your own life," the man ground out slowly as he started to advance back on Anakin. "To destroy your own family that you oh so desired to save. To turn against those you claimed to love."

Something was wrong. Anakin still remembered his old attack pattern well, having used it as a basis for his current style, yet the illusory copy kept catching him off-guard with unpredictable moves. Dominating the Jedi just a few moments ago, Anakin was now barely keeping up with him, which had never happened in any of their previous battles. Once again he was forced into a defensive position, struggling to deflect the relentless blows—and to ignore the words which aimed to cut him deeper than a blade.

"You were mad, of course," the Jedi went on, a mocking tone to his voice. "Mad with fear, with anger, with power. Gave into your emotions. Lost control. Honestly, in your place, who wouldn't?" He shrugged. "A decent person, I suppose."

Failing to withstand the continued assault, Anakin found himself cornered with his back against the wall.

"And so, we finally get to the big question," the man uttered quietly, drawling each word. "Where's the guarantee it won't happen again?"

"ENOUGH!" Anakin bellowed, his roar echoing across the cavern.

Throwing his hand out in a sharp gesture, he pushed the air in front of himself as he sent the Jedi flying towards the cave wall behind him. Hitting the wall with his back, the man fell down into a heap of snow, lying there motionless like a broken doll. Quickly, Anakin strode towards him, raising his lightsaber above his head as he prepared to perform the final strike—

And found himself unable to move.

Next moment, Anakin felt his feet lifting off the ground as something yanked him into the air. The realization of what was happening came to him slowly, as he usually was the one performing the action, not being subjected to it. Suspended helplessly in the air, he could only watch as the Jedi rose to his feet unscathed, holding his hand in a pinching gesture and staring at Anakin. Suddenly, he felt pressure around his throat, as though something was crushing his artificial windpipe—a force he was unable to fight off, cutting off his steady supply of oxygen, leaving him breathless, senseless…

"You've managed to make it this far, and now there's only three months left. Doesn't seem like a lot, I know. And really, it isn't." The Jedi brought his fingers just a bit closer, gaze still locked on Anakin. "But all you needed last time was just one single day."

Next moment Anakin felt the hold around his neck easing, allowing the respiration system to work properly again; but he didn't get to savor the air for long as the man clenched his fist and brought it down abruptly. Following the motion, Anakin's body fell to the ground, the pain of impact forcing him to growl. Lying on his back, he watched as the man stepped closer, towering over him.

"What makes you think they will be safe around you?" the Jedi demanded, enraged. "That they won't find themselves choking to death the moment they step out of line?!"

A memory flashed before his eyes—his son, looming above him the same way, his face too distorted with anger…

How he then turned away, refusing to strike his father down—choosing creation over destruction; compassion over hatred…

And in that moment, Anakin understood.

"Well?" the Jedi roared. "What is going to be different this time?!"

Picking up his deactivated lightsaber, Anakin rose to his feet and glanced at the Jedi before giving him a calm reply.

"I am."

With that, he took one final look at the metal cylinder in his hand and then tossed it aside into the snow.

Caught off-guard, the young man lowered his own weapon. He watched in wary confusion as Anakin slowly approached him, getting ready to strike again; but before the Jedi was able to react, he suddenly found himself embraced by his older self.

With a quiet noise, the lightsaber fell out of his unclenched hand and hit the ground, its blade retracting back into the hilt.

The man swallowed as he stared in front of himself in wide-eyed shock, mouth slightly open. A pained expression crossed his face, and after another moment of quiet, something finally broke in him. Wrapping his arms around his older self, the Jedi buried his face in Anakin's shoulder as he grabbed hold of his cape, fingers digging deep into the armorweave fabric. Soon, his whole body went limp, shoulders moving up and down as he began to weep.

Anakin pressed the quivering man closer against his shoulder, one hand held on his back and the other placed atop the golden curls. Silently, he stood there as the Jedi shook with sobs, tears streaming down his face as they dripped on the black pauldron.

"I'm sorry," the Jedi managed to let out between sobs, his voice small and hoarse.

"Yes," Anakin murmured, "I am too."

After that, they kept standing together for a while, until his sobbing turned into quiet sniffling. It took some more time for the young man to calm himself down, before he finally pulled his face away from Anakin's shoulder and let go of his cape.

Anakin watched as the Jedi took a few steps back, face still red, hair sticking to his forehead. He regarded his older self for a brief moment, his blue eyes clearer, warmer somehow; and then gave Anakin a barely perceptible nod.

Next second, Anakin blinked—and the Jedi was gone, once again taking residence within his heart. But there was now something there, where the illusory figure had been standing mere moments ago. Some kind of faint shimmer beneath the thin snowy blanket; a voice beckoning him to come closer.

Taking a step forward, Anakin went down on one knee, brushed off the layer of snow, and held up a kyber crystal between his fingers.


Putting his plasma welder aside, Anakin took the lightsaber hilt he'd been working on for the past few hours in hand and regarded it critically. It was, by all means, a solid design—perfectly functional and very practical, lacking any useless embellishments that seemed to be favored by so many other Force wielders. Heavy and bulky, the weapon was somewhat reminiscent of Anakin's own lightsabers he'd used to carry on himself, both as a Jedi and a Sith…

And that was exactly the problem.

The more Anakin looked at the hilt, the less appeal he found in it. It felt like something from a bygone era of his life, an artifact of the past rather than the future. The sharp edges and darker hues, previously comforting, now seemed strangely uninviting, and Anakin wasn't entirely sure why; but one thing he knew for certain was that the project required a different approach.

Glancing over the assorted array of metal sheets and lightsaber parts, Anakin picked up his welding tool and began his work anew.


"It looks amazing," Luke said, as he admired the metallic cylinder in his father's outstretched hand. And Anakin was inclined to agree.

He'd spent the last two days at his workbench, barely leaving the room, as he'd scrapped one design after another in an attempt to create something that would truly satisfy him. At a certain point it'd gotten so frustrating that Anakin had even considered giving up and shoving the kyber crystal into any old hilt, yet his determination persisted, urging him to work through failure. And in the end, it was all worth it. The lightsaber model Anakin had eventually landed on was some of his most unique work, drastically different from anything he'd produced before. Sleek and smooth, almost organic, its design called back to the weapons of ancient Jedi that Anakin remembered seeing at the Temple. The shiny metallic surface was light gold in color, with silver insertions in the center creating an intricate pattern and providing a reliable grip. Finally, Anakin had seen to it that the hilt was somewhat smaller and lighter than he'd personally prefer, as it was to be wielded by normal human hands.

After giving Luke a good look at the lightsaber, Anakin gripped it with both of his hands, pointed the emitter upwards and pressed the ignition button. The color of the glowing blade that sprang to life was, of course, crimson red—just like everything else Anakin could see, tinted by the lenses of his mask. Allowing himself a moment of pride as he studied the weapon, Anakin then turned his head and looked expectantly at his son, a silent inquiry ringing in the Force.

"Green," Luke said after a momentary pause. "Just like mine. Well, maybe a bit brighter." He shrugged, the corner of his mouth slightly raised. "I know green is no blue, but…"

"Yes," Anakin agreed, smiling to himself. "Green is better."