After the meeting's close, Leia and I walked along the winding paths of this region. They were secluded and quiet, perfect for such secretive conversations. We discussed the relative success of the meeting, the possible allies Mother Holdo had offered to reach out to, and Pamlo's remarkably staunch determination. Tai-Lin seemed more on the fence. While he clearly held the Empire in no esteem, and trusted Holdo, he knew Leia only as her mask: the durasteel-fisted queen of Alderaan, as staunch an Imperial as there ever was. It would take time to gain his trust.

Eventually, though, the inevitable came up: Han's absence from the gathering. An angry, febrile light lay in her eyes as she discussed her husband's rank refusal to attend, despite my conversation with him a week ago in which I attempted to sway him. All he said? "You aren't thinking at all about Padmé."

But oh, how wrong he was. I was thinking very much about Padmé. And I was thinking of Leia and Han's mutual wish to keep her in the dark. It showed little faith in her. Force-sensitive she might not be, but she had greatness in her; I'd felt it the moment I first met her.

But Leia was still on Han, and she said something that suddenly jarred me back to the moment. "I was wondering… if you could make him forget."

I've already talked to him, Leia. This argument can't simply be "forgotten," put behind you. You two have always had your passionate spats. I didn't know much about marriage, but I knew that Uncle Owen and Aunt Beru had always resolved their most inglorious arguments. Yes, this was different, but not really.

I ventured, "I'm sure you two can resolve this—"

"No, Luke." Leia's tone turned hushed, despite the fact that no one else could hear us for a hundred miles. "I meant—I want you to make him forget."

The truth dawned on me. My eyes bulged. "Oh. Oh… You—want me to erase his memory of all of this?"

With a nod, Leia took my hand. "Please."

"No."

Fire flared in her gaze. "Luke, you don't understand. It's so hard to, living on Tatooine. But here—where we're at the center of it all—it's so dangerous. Han really might do something reckless that could endanger all of this; he doesn't understand the politics of it all—"

I cut her off calmly, though her words stank of Core privilege and assumption of my Tatooinian ignorance. "I have seen enough Imperial oppression myself, Leia. I wasn't refusing because I was being obstinate." Though I did think she just needed to buck up and resolve things with Han. "It's not in my power."

The fire dimmed, giving way to confusion. "...what do you mean?"

"The mind is an immensely complex art of the Force. There hasn't been a master of it in centuries." In fact, the last known master was of legend, and she'd actually been a Sith. But Leia didn't need to know that. She loathed even mentioning the Sith, much less specifically discussing any of them. "It would take mastery to erase a specific line of knowledge from Han's memory without taking other things by accident—or permanently damaging his mind. I've never even attempted anything to do with the mind because of its complexity and danger."

"—oh."

"Yeah."

"But…" Leia seemed genuinely bewildered. "You're so powerful, Luke. You're the most powerful Jedi ever."

"What power I wield is no credit to me," I returned. And, because she must understand this: "There have been far greater and more capable Jedi than I. Power alone—power without control, and accorded action—means nothing."

She shook her head at me, a slight smile on her lips. "My brother, ever so humble."

"Any time you'd like to learn all of this for yourself, I'm open to it," I replied lightly. "Maybe you'll even be good at the mind."

Her smile froze. She turned her face away to the lake at which we'd now arrived, watching the water instead of me. Its cerulean surface was dazzling in the noon sun. "I thought we settled this a long time ago."

I shrugged.

She then whirled on me and burst out, "Luke! I'm thirty-three years old! I'm not young anymore! I can't do any of that—" On seeing my raised eyebrows, she faltered, and then added somewhat feebly, "Not that you aren't—I mean—"

"Oh, the Force helps me limp along. Sometimes, I almost feel capable of walking on my own."

After delivering a mock punch to my arm, she said, "I mean that I made my choice. You know I never wanted to be a Jedi."

"For all Yoda's opinion, yes."

"Well, clearly, he was wrong. There could be no greater Jedi than you—no, don't start saying humble things. I mean it. For this day… for this hour… facing down what we are… you're the best possible being for the job."

I thought of many "humble" (truthful) things to say to that, but in the end could only shrug once again, my last hope of Leia accepting apprenticeship gone. Over the years, I'd given it my best effort. Time to let it go. "I guess we'll never know, will we?"

But I did want an apprentice, so very badly. I wanted to teach, to impart my learnings to someone else. I wanted to do my bit to begin fulfilling Yoda and Obi-Wan's will for the Jedi: that I rebuild it. Now that I'd committed to rebellion, all of my suppressed wishes and hopes seemed to be bubbling up to the surface, one after another, in an ever-flowing stream that often kept me up at night.

The fear did that, too, though. I did my best, always, to let these feelings go into the Force; they merely fed the dark. But it was not so easy as all that when so much was riding on it.

I said, "I'll talk to Han again. If we can't get him on our side at this moment, I can at least make him understand the value of discretion."

"Would you?"

"Sure." I wondered if I might have to threaten my friend, or lie to him. For the first time, I realized how dark some decisions I might have to make on this journey may turn out to be.

Well, I could only stay in the light, ever tending the flickering flame that lit the long night. So may it be.

OOO

All was well until Leia and I reached the edge of the path, planning to soon part ways. Then, I grabbed her by the arm, wrenching her back with the Force.

"What—?"

"Quiet," I ordered her softly. I looked side to side, but saw nothing. In the Force, however… "Go hide."

"Luke? What is it?"

"Go hide now, Leia!"

At my raised voice tone, the queen of Alderaan at last obeyed. She set off in the direction I indicated, running, completely inelegant in a way that surely would've shocked her subjects. Not that it mattered. No subjects were here now.

Only one being was.

The figure picked their way out from the hedges, a gleeful glint to their gleaming gaze. Being of a species I'd never encountered before, I couldn't ascertain the gender; I could only ascertain wholistic malice and black glee. In their hand sat a lightsaber. They began to laugh, a loud, ringing laugh.

"Jedi. Why, we thought we had all of you," the Inquisitor mused. "Oh, but your capture will so please Lord Vader."

I thought:

Emotion, yet peace.

Ignorance, yet knowledge.

Passion, yet serenity.

Chaos, yet harmony.

Death, yet the Force.

"Thankfully," I replied, "that is not how this will end. I am in control here." But it was no longer me speaking; I had become a mere vessel for what I served. The Force spoke through my lips.

"Ooh! We'll see, pretty man!" Their bluish eyes gleamed.

The Inquisitor ignited the lightsaber they held, a wickedly blood red spinning laser sword that radiated death. Taking out my own lightsaber, I allowed blue plasma to bloom. My foe leapt, and it began.