8 BBY

SENATE APARTMENT COMPLEX, CORUSCANT

Before she had become aware of it, she was awake and gasping for air. Leia sat straight up in bed, taking stock of the room around her. First, though, she sucked in exorbitant amounts of air to replenish her oxygen supply. The bedroom was completely dark, devoid of any intruders. Artoo was shut off in the corner, light gleaming off of his dome from the city traffic outside.

She lifted a hand to clean her forehead free of sweat, suddenly becoming aware of how damp she was. To her recollection, she'd never sweated this much. Not even on the hottest days of Mustafarian summer, where she had to be careful not to leave anything with a low melting point outside of the controlled climate of her father's castle.

Hunched over, she sat in bed for a while longer. At least her breathing had calmed considerably. Collecting her thoughts became her next priority. They were far too scattered and blood-chilling for her taste. She closed her eyes for a while, trying to clear her mind with the Force. Leia returned to the source of the panic…

Vague recollections and glimpses of a dream filled her mind. Flashes, really. It was a nightmare.

A beautiful face contorted in pain, her desperate calls for help drowned out by the wailing of an infant getting used to the open air. It was her mother, she realized. Leia rubbed her eyes and glanced at the chrono as her chest tingled with dread. Barely 0300. Suffice to say, she wasn't planning on going back to sleep anytime soon.

It was like a vivid horror holo- just grounded enough to seem realistic. As if it were no accident or mere trick of the mind.

Suffice to say, she didn't want to see anymore. Not ever again. It was as muddied as it was real, and it left her with an unshakable feeling of unsettlement. Like the shadows in the room would jump at her if she took her eyes from them for even a moment. Leia blinked a few times in the darkness before sliding off the warmth of her blanket and rising to her feet.

Stumbling to the refresher, she closed her eyes before turning on the lights. Her eyes opened to find their image reflected in the mirror, stained with tears and bloodied from crying. She rubbed her itchy eyes a few times while reaching for the faucet. A few splashes to the face seemed to do her good enough.

Physically, at least. Mentally, she couldn't stop watching her mother die. Or- give birth and then die. It was in her best interest to lie awake and stare at the ceiling until her father returned, she decided firmly.

She flipped off the light and went back to her bed, stopping just short of climbing in. Something slithered over her hand, eliciting a shriek of terror from her. With both hands she used the Force, turning on the lights with her left and calling her lightsaber with her right.

A long and multi-legged arthropod crawled on her bed like it owned the place, disappearing as soon as she blinked. Leia exasperatedly groaned as she realized she'd lost sight of it.

"What's going on?" came the muffled voice of a Deathtrooper from outside her door.

Leia tentatively grabbed her blanket and pumped it, hoping to send whatever it was flying in the opposite direction. She flung it from the bed when nothing came free. All traces of that… thing were gone. It was probably already underneath her bed waiting to strike when she was asleep.

DT-D39 burst into her room, weapon drawn. "What happened?" she asked.

Leia backed up toward the doorway and raised a hand to her temples to massage them. "I don't know. There was-"

A sudden crash came from the living room. Her lightsaber howled to life as she peered past the trooper. A handsome man with yellow tattoos on his forehead lay in a crumpled pile between two halves of the caf table. Leia gasped. He was gone before she knew it, her furniture intact.

The trooper turned around confused. She heard nothing, saw nothing. Leia deactivated her saber, holding out a hand to the guard who had two fingers pressed to the side of her helmet.

"Don't call anyone. There's no danger," she said, her frustration mounting.

"Lord Vader would have my head if I didn't report this."

She sighed and shook her head exhaustedly. "I just had a dream. A nightmare. I'm jumpy. I'll tell him myself."

Of course she had no intention of bothering her father. Not at this hour- assuming it wasn't midnight or something where he was. Regardless of anything she didn't think some stupid ghostly Force thingies were too dangerous. Just vastly annoying. No matter how much she wanted to talk to him.

A curt nod was sent in her direction. DT-D39 observed her through her green visor. "I'll double security for the night, just in case."

"That's fine," she yawned. "Thank you."

Leia retreated to her room, locking the door for good measure. Artoo's head was swiveling lazily. She brought him out of low-power mode with a wave of her hand. "Hey buddy. Could, uh, could you do a lifeform sweep of the room?"

That bug was still making her skin crawl. What good was the Force if all it did was cost her sleep with past terrors?

He beeped enthusiastically as a blue light was projected from him, sweeping over the room slowly. Leia eyed the dark corners of her bedroom breathlessly before the sweep was finished. "Find anything?"

The droid trilled negatorily. Leia nodded in self-satisfaction, putting a hand to her chin. The apartment's furnishings were all-new, but still, it tormented her. Her father's steps to ensure against catastrophe had failed. Despite her lack of experience, she was confident something related to the Force was definitely going on in her apartment.

"I'm never going to be able to sleep ever again," she realized aloud.

Just as she picked up her comforter, something incredibly painful struck her for an instant. Like a splitting and equally fleeting headache- like someone had replaced her nervous system with ice. In an instant, exhaustion overcame her, like she'd been freely climbing a mountain for the entire day with no rest.

Leia collapsed toward the floor, landing on her palms and knees as the immense sinking feeling refused to stop. Her chest heaved to get enough air. Artoo rolled toward her, beeping in concern. What exactly occurred, she knew not. Only one thing was certain to her:

Far, far across the Galaxy, something was deeply wrong with her father.

TAKODANA CASTLE, TAKODANA

Obi-Wan Kenobi's role in the burgeoning Rebellion was multi-faceted. For the most part, he had picked up Ahsoka's former duties. She was teaching the boy because he realized that a new-fashioned approach was required in these turbulent times. Granted, he did provide wisdom on occasion, but he thought himself to not be all that credible.

He was responsible for the creation of Darth Vader in multiple ways, after all. Obi-Wan was unsure as to how one would come to terms with something like that.

So he had thrust himself into work he was more familiar with. Making alliances and stitching together smaller cells to their own. They were awfully relaxing missions, rarely requiring the use of either sort of force. He was considering himself shaken free of rust and ready to get back into the fold. Jedi fought and died in the Clone War older than he was now.

A lovely side objective to the trips he took were leads on Jedi survivors and artifacts. None had panned out thus far, but it gave him hope that the Jedi weren't gone from the mind of the populace. Whispers were all that remained of the Order, but that was better than silence. It was a mission that had led him to Takodana, but it was the promise of rebuilding the Jedi Order that made him stay.

It was a beautifully green planet, and home to smugglers from across the Galaxy- a wonderful place to hide.

Thus far he'd just picked up some precious cargo in the ancient woods surrounding the castle, and once that was secure he ventured within. It was livelier than most of the other less reputable places of the Galaxy. All were welcome so long as civility was followed, and he was more than eager to oblige. Keeping one's head down was simply the way of the Jedi now. Never would he find a more honorable hive of scum and villainy.

It was dim within the palace, despite it being far from dusk. Such was the fate of a structure as fortified and ancient as this one. Delicacies from hundreds of worlds were being cooked and consumed. Loud music blared, leaving little breathing room. All in all, it made it quite easy to conceal oneself. Though, not from the owner of the palace, Maz Kanata, the pirate queen of Takodana.

The diminutive barkeep lowered the goggles from her wrinkled forehead to her pinprick eyes. "I was wondering if I'd ever see you here."

"You know me?" he asked. Kenobi sensed it was more than just recognition from wartime news reports. She was attuned to the Force.

"No, but I knew your Master. He wasn't a stranger to the Galaxy's underbelly. But you already knew that."

He'd be lying if he said that it had been a while since he'd thought about Qui-Gon Jinn. Not a day went by that he didn't look to his guidance and teachings. Contact with the man from beyond was sparse. Such was the nature of being a disembodied presence speaking from the Netherworld of the Force.

Obi-Wan raised a brow. "Are you a friend, then?"

Kanata glanced around to determine there were no prying ears or eyes before leaning forward. "Provided you have not lost your way. I will always be a friend to the Jedi. There is always a place here for you, until this great imbalance is restored."

Obi-Wan stroked his beard as she returned to behind the counter. "I will keep that in mind. It is Jedi business that brings me here."

She sighed dramatically. "Always business. Never just for a drink, even before the Clone War."

"There will be time for revelry in excess soon enough," he replied.

She studied him carefully, adjusting her goggles. "True enough, o' Negotiator. So what is it that you've come for?"

He elected it wouldn't do to spend Rebellion credits on a drink for the sake of winning over someone already friendly. Obi-Wan did his best to make himself comfortable on the stool, though. Perhaps he'd grab a bite to eat. After his business, of course. "I'm looking for a pirate named Hondo Ohnaka."

Maz rolled her eyes. "That troublemaker?"

One word hardly did him justice. Finally, though, someone was used to his acquired taste.

"I heard a rumor that he was harboring a survivor," he explained. A former youngling, at that.

"I've heard that too," she said with a sigh. "Though I've seen neither hide nor hair."

Maz prodded him with the Force, an indirect way to tell him she'd felt no traces of the Force in the pirate's company. "Well, as much as I'd prefer to take your word, it simply wouldn't do to leave a lead unchased. Do you know where I might find him?"

She flashed him a smirk. "He comes through here regularly enough to have a tab that he never pays. Saw him last week."

Kenobi brought his hands back into his cloak. "Is he sympathetic enough for the rumor to have credence?"

She nodded. "He hasn't sold me out at least. He's no friend to the Empire, either. They really cracked down on his gang a while back. Ohnaka runs solo now, as far as I'm aware."

"Well, then tell him that I was looking for him, and for him to contact me on this frequency if you see him. Of course, you are entitled to it as well should you encounter any negotiations that require a more aggressive touch," he said, handing her a datastick.

She accepted it with one hand and wagged a finger on her other, her bracelets jingling. "You're not planning on leaving already, are you?"

He gazed at her in slight confusion. It wasn't his intention to offend. "Well, I-"

"I said nothing of rumors that do hold truth, ones not pertaining to that pirate," she said in a low voice. She beckoned him with a hand.

Obi-Wan stood up and followed her into the basement, passing several tough-looking armored bodyguards. After she unlocked a door, Maz led him into a storeroom filled with trinkets from every age of the past millennia. She went to the end of the room, opening a curio box filled with precious memories to deposit the datastick.

"You know of other survivors?"

"A few," she said, hopping onto a chest to take a seat.

"Better than none."

Kanata nodded. "The Empire wasn't as thorough as it wanted to be. Several have slipped past the cracks."

But they were thorough. All who had survived had done so through the whim of the Force- not skill or chance. Even himself. Obi-Wan sobered at the thought, centering himself with the Force before any more survivor's guilt crept upon him.

She handed him a holoprojector that showed him names of familiar Jedi, among them his own. Coleman Kcaj, Oppo Rancisis, Quinlan Vos, and Yoda at a glance. "High priority targets..."

"From an Inquisitor. At least a decade old, I'm afraid. But you've survived thus far," she offered. "I've also added anyone I know of, including rumors, and they are marked as such- though there are not many."

"Yoda survived too," he added. She was to be trusted, but as to how far he was unsure. The Jedi Council had historically been in good with her, to his recollection. That didn't change the fact that she was lauded as the pirate among pirates.

"And how is he? He used to be quite handsome, you know," she said with a smile.

"I don't doubt that," he chuckled. Then he sobered. "He's alive, but he is very distant. During the war, he was… saddened. Now, I'm afraid it's even worse."

Maz offered him a warm smile and touch to the shoulder. "He's always had that weight on his shoulders. Your youth blinded you, I'm sure. Send him my way sometime."

"Naturally. I expect you to do the same should any of these appear," he said, gesturing with the holoprojector.

"Of course, Master Kenobi."

"Obi-Wan," he said. Surprisingly, it was easier to find those sympathetic to the Jedi when there were none. He opened his mouth to offer more pleasantries, but something was wrong.

Maz Kanata's eyes went wide as a ripple in the Force crashed into them. Obi-Wan felt something so chilling about it made the hairs on his neck stand on end. A Dark he hadn't experienced as intensely in almost eleven years came across the Galaxy.

"Did you feel that?" she asked.

Obi-Wan stroked his beard in a vain attempt to settle himself. "Yes."

TWILIGHT II, HYPERSPACE

"So where are we headed next?" Rex asked, probably hopeful that their series of side errands was over. They hadn't had much contact with the other Rebels as they flew around picking up supplies and leads. He was always ready to jump into the fray, and that saddened her. Ahsoka was technically older than him, but he looked far from it. The years had made twice a mark as the war.

She sat in the pilot's chair, offering him the one opposite from her. "One more stop before we get to base. I've been monitoring Mustafar's transmissions in a vain effort to discover more about the Sith- that system is one of their strongholds. I've found nothing regarding the Sith, but I have discovered more about their Inquisitors. They hunt the last of the Jedi, but they have a secondary mission to make retrievals."

Rex smiled. "There's enough left to hunt down, eh?"

"Yes," she said. "I'm always keeping an eye out for Jedi. There are enough whispers that I hold hope."

"So... we're going to disrupt their retrievals?" Luke asked.

"I'd like to figure out what exactly they're retrieving first. I've managed to decode a set of coordinates not far from here, and we're going to check it out before getting back to base. Hopefully Obi-Wan will be finished with his mission by then."

Rex clapped a hand on her shoulder. "You should get off your feet. Plug in those coordinates and let the kid and I take the wheel."

She nodded, thinking it was for the best.

Then, suddenly, something in the Force itself screamed. An incredible cold washed over the entire Galaxy for an instant. Luke felt the disturbance too, judging by the way he nearly collapsed to the floor.

"Anakin…" she muttered.

THEED, NABOO

Commodex Tahn had just slipped into his bed when a sudden chill came over him. He sighed and grumbled absently. Those temperate nights he'd moved to Theed for had just turned into chilly nuisances as he'd grown older. Not that he considered himself old, just… well-versed in living. He didn't have as much insulation as he used to. Nevertheless, he endeavored to change his discomfort- he was at least capable of that.

He rose and donned his slippers, slinking out into the darkness of his home. It wasn't the new moon as far as he recalled, but still the halls seemed darker than they ever had before. As he thought about it, there was no breeze, no draft. Merely a dry cold. It was peculiar.

He sniffled and walked to the climate control unit, turning the dial to the right. His blood froze when he turned around.

Something from his deepest, most horrific nightmares stood in front of the hearth, slowly and audibly breathing. It was taller than any man he had ever seen, though not as tall as a Wookiee. Even in the darkness he could tell the figure was jet-black- so black that it seemed to devour the light around it with its mere presence. The figure craned his head toward him, giving him a moment to fully appreciate the skeletal visage of the helmet he was donning. That is, assuming it wasn't some sort of carapaced creature. When he blinked, just before his eyes closed, he swore he saw his cape fluttering like some sort of dark miasma.

He released a breath that he was unaware he was holding. Or perhaps, the figure was holding it for him. Something was permeable about his presence, threatening to drown him.

"Commodex Tahn. You were the mortician who prepared Padmé Amidala's body for burial," he said. His deep and commanding voice left no room for interpretation.

It was true, but he had no idea how this monster would know. He attempted to refute it but his voice caught in his throat. Every cell in his body was filled with fear- the urge to flee. "I'm not- Who are you?"

"Unimportant. You will answer my questions or you will suffer," he said.

Commodex knew it to be true. Taken aback, he swallowed to regain his fleeting nerves. He thought of Falumpasets in order to mask his thoughts.

He flinched when the shadow pointed a cautionary finger at him. Through him. "Do not deny me. This is my final offering for a peaceful resolution."

He shook his head resolutely, though he was equally terrified. Something compelled him to stand his ground. "Whatever it is, I won't-"

He clutched at his chest, feeling as though someone had plunged their hand into it and grabbed tightly. Suddenly, the biological rhythm he'd grown numb to disappeared. His vision grew narrower and dimmer, and his light head led him to a nearby chair. Somehow, his heart stopped. Just as quickly it resumed, though it felt eons in the moment. "What... Did you just do?"

"Remain true to my word. You will answer my questions, or I will return what I do to you tenfold on anyone you have ever met," he promised, producing a holo that ought to have been on his desk. It depicted his closest friends and family.

"Alright, I get the picture!" he shouted. His heart was pounding rapidly, but he welcomed the feeling of something after the brief nothing.

"Good. Your cooperation is vastly preferred," The shadow allowed him to regain his breath. "She was made to look pregnant- by you. You and I are among the few in the Galaxy who know the truth. She gave birth to a daughter who was taken by the Jedi."

Nothing in the Galaxy could have made him any less surprised. No preparation. No training.

"Yes… I feel your surprise. Your fear. She was a great Queen, but your thoughts betray her…"

"The greatest. I'm sorry, my Queen", he said, engrossing himself in his shock. Anything to distract.

This man was using the Force on him- a twisted and perverted version of what the Jedi of old used. From what he knew of the Force, it didn't allow one free reign to another's mind. Just the ability to pick up impressions. Images. Feelings. As long as he didn't dwell on what was unnecessary, the secrets he knew would remain safe.

"Were you able to determine the cause of death?" he asked.

Commodex looked up at the monster. He almost… faltered. "What?"

"...How did she die?"

Suddenly his terror was quenched. At least held at bay by his confusion. "Childbirth?"

"You are unsure," he deduced.

"I'm not an examiner, just a mortician," he said steadily

The shadow paused to shake his head. "It will not require a medical examiner to conclude your head was removed from your shoulders. Just… imagination."

He paused because his life depended on it. "The only external cosmetic work I did was to mask some bruises to her neck, certainly nonlethal. It may have forced her into labor early, leading to complications. She was intact, she must have just bled out or something."

"There were no wounds? No trauma?" he asked. If he wasn't so scared he'd have guessed the monster was desperate.

"I'm telling you- no. And that's what the report said- destroyed after I had the pertinent information. Most of it was redacted anyway," he reaffirmed. "From all that I know, she tragically died as the result of complications from delivering premature twins-"

He gasped in realization just as the shadow restricted his airway.

Primal terror washed over him as he felt an immense bloodlust emanating from the shadows. Commodex was in far too much pain to begin blaming himself. The shadow craned his head, a hollow groan escaping his mask.

"Twins?"