The Naboo had given Obi-Wan use of a small interplanetary ship. Once he had set the course, he retreated to meditate in the small cabin.
He could admit it to himself, if just barely. He didn't want to return to Ilum. He had all but buried the visions he had faced there deep within him. He had faced them, but had not defeated them – he had only survived them. The haunting knowledge of failure and the suspicion that it was a failure born of his unworthiness had infused his young life with the aching need to prove himself worthy, to be perfect, to stave off that future.
He was enough in tune with the Unifying Force, even then, to know the future had many possible paths and that this future, his failure, might be averted if he worked hard enough, tried hard enough, and believed hard enough. Failure did not come to those who were perfect.
So he had sought perfection. But even in that, he failed, for he was still a human being, and incapable of perfection.
It didn't matter. He had thrown himself into his training, avoided distraction and sought the perfection that would stave off that future without hope – empty, haunted and ever so lonely.
He barely remembered the vision itself. What remained of it was the fear deep within him, a void that admitted no light and no hope, that had caused him to shiver and seek refuge in meditation upon his return.
Qui-Gon had been worried about him. His master had wrapped him in warm blankets and held him in his arms, but even that loving gesture had not been able to melt the ice within him. His mind had thrown up barriers and by morning he barely remembered the vision.
The fear and the ache, only they remained, below the surface of his consciousness, but the knowledge of why was buried.
Now he was returning. Would the visions show him he had conquered that which caused him to fail, or would they show him the same future?
Facing the caves of Ilum had almost destroyed him that first time, and he feared it would be worse this time. Darker deeds now lay in his past – demons that would face him would be less fears of what might lie within him, but pulled from his life and knowledge of what did actually lie within him.
After his conversation with Yoda, after facing the entire Council, he should be at peace with his actions on Naboo. He hadn't expected to be knighted for his actions.
He had given his report, a full report and the Council had been silent, reviewing his words. He had thought he would be dismissed, and was waiting when Mace Windu suddenly steepled his fingers and leaned forward to face him.
"Padawan Kenobi," he said, emphasizing his rank. "We wish to explore for ourselves your role in the battle. Yoda has given us a report of your conversation but we wish to hear how you handled that for ourselves. We ask that you place yourself in a light trance for this."
The young Jedi hid his surprise, and managed to avoid looking at Yoda. He obediently took a deep, calming breath and sunk into a light trance. The Council was in the edges of his vision, but unreal as if they were ghosts. He was part and parcel of the Force; it trickled through his consciousness without guidance, a wash of quiet that removed all conscious thought and emotion. He waited, at rest, patient.
"Tell us, first, of your missing years," Mace asked, leaning back. He carefully guided the young Jedi through his memories, even some he had not shared with his master. Even the painful memories had no power over him, not immersed in the Force as he was.
He heard the other masters ask questions of him, and idly wondered at their gentleness as he answered. The Force lapped at the edges of his mind, waves that washed in memories and waves that washed them away.
Obi-Wan barely noticed when the questions shifted to the fight on Naboo. He already knew how he had felt during the battle for Yoda had drawn that knowledge from him. The knowledge of the peace he had felt, when he had known he could live, filled him, and the memories caused no pain. He had faced them already.
"Obi-Wan, wake," Yoda's voice broke through the stillness that was his mind, and he blinked. The masters were all sitting quietly looking at him. No one spoke. He waited, patient.
"Return to your master's side, you may. Await a summons. May the Force be with you, young padawan." Yoda's words gave nothing but dismissal, but to be told to await a summons was unusual.
Obi-Wan silently bowed and left the room the Council was using. It was a high tower room in Theed palace, ornate and marbled as were all the others, with long windows stretching floor to ceiling with views of the skies and city below.
He had been recalled not long after. Gold and pink streaks swam across the horizon and the color reflected off the clouds and laid long fingers of light across the floor. The sun was setting, and suddenly Obi-Wan wished for Qui-Gon's presence at his side. The sunset was something they had not yet had a chance to share together since they had been reunited.
Obi-Wan stood within the circle of the masters, wondering what questions they had for him this time. Had he answered badly? He had answered truthfully. That would have to sustain him. He vaguely remembered the questions and his answers, but he had put them aside, for they were the past.
Much to his surprise, Yoda stood and slowly limped to stand in front of him. Obi-Wan quickly kneeled to be at the little Jedi's height and raised patient eyes. Yoda leaned on his stick and thoughtfully stared into his eyes. Obi-Wan waited.
With a slight nod and thump of his stick, Yoda spoke.
"Knight Kenobi you are by decree of the Council. Passed your trials, you have. Done well, you have young one."
Obi-Wan merely stared, not believing he had heard right. Knight? They were knighting him? His eyes went to the other council members' faces, Mace – and Mace was nodding at him with a slight smile on his face.
He opened his mouth to speak, and found he had nothing to say. His voice had fled. He bowed his head before the Council and then raised it again.
Yoda gently poked his shin with his stick. "Nothing to say, have you, eh? Surprises me, that does. Always a word, you and your master both have."
The smile that rose within him banished his silence. "I thank the Council. I am honored that you think me worthy."
"Obi-Wan," Mace drew his attention away from Yoda. "We will discuss your ceremony later, when Qui-Gon has recovered enough to participate in it. He would never forgive us, if we had it too soon. But a knight you are now. You will need a new lightsaber; you should return to Ilum to fashion one for the ceremony. May the Force be with you."
Obi-Wan slowly stood, and bowed, and left with his head in a whirl. Qui-Gon had as much as told him that the trials were not always a formal test within the Temple, and hinted that he thought Obi-Wan was close to being knighted. He had not quite believed his master.
He had been gone from the Jedi, and all but cut off from the Force for five years. He might have been thinking ahead to the trials, expecting to begin the long intensive path towards them in the future, had he never been absent, but to be knighted now…when he had expected remedial education – his head was awhirl.
Obi-Wan surfaced from his thoughts as the alarm beeped. He would be coming out of hyperspace shortly. He made his way to the pilots compartment and settled himself in. He took manual control of the ship; it gave him something to concentrate on, rather than the tests Ilum would throw at him. He would face them then, not anticipate them now.
Ilum was a planet covered in ice, shrouded in storms and buffeted by strong winds. There were no settlements or beacons, the only life was what wildlife resided there. Ilum was restricted in the sense that the Jedi didn't advertise its presence or purpose, and no one was ever tempted to explore the planet – it was too hostile.
Ilum was the source of the crystals that focused a Jedi's lightsaber. The crystals grew within a cave perched high on a precipitous slope, and there was no easy access, just a difficult and an even more difficult access.
Obi-Wan found an icy ledge high on the slope and settled the ship down carefully, engaging a claw to anchor the ship should a sudden blizzard blow in and buffet the ship over the ice to crash on the ice pinnacles far below. He would hate to be trapped on Ilum without a ship, with only the clothes on his back and a few ration bars in his belt.
He donned winter survival gear – heavy outerwear, gloves, headgear and goggles to protect him from the ice crystals swirling outside the transparisteel panels. The wind moaned through the pinnacles and battered against him as he stepped forth. He nearly stumbled as a strong gust buffeted him as he leaned over to fasten sharp ice-claws to his boots.
It was a relatively decent day on Ilum. From searing dry desert, to mild sunny Naboo, to this icy wasteland – he had gone from one to the other within mere days, in little more than a week's time. He shook his head with a rueful smile; the life of a Jedi was full of upheaval and change.
He sent a quick tendril of Force out questing and was relieved to encounter no life presence nearby. The gorgodon of Ilum were rarely around the caves, but a Jedi could not count on that. They were a formidable presence and didn't hesitate to deny entrance to the caves if they chose.
Obi-Wan activated his cable launcher and carefully tested its hold, twice. It was anchored firmly, and he triggered the button that allowed him to ascend. The wind blew and twisted in swirls and sudden gusts, changing angles and direction without regard for the man hanging onto a cable above a precipitous drop. It knocked him about from side and side, and a particularly strong gust smashed him into a rock outcropping.
He had felt the wind crash against his body; he twisted around and let himself relax into the swing to minimize the shock. Even so, the impact knocked the breath out of him, but he let the pain flow through him and continued up.
Finally he was at the cave entrance, and back on his own feet. He looked over the edge and saw his ship far below, a small speck anchored to an incredibly tiny ledge. He had actually managed to land the ship in such a small area? He was a better pilot than he remembered.
Entering the cave, the wind dropped to a mere breeze behind him, and the temperature rose from below freezing to merely freezing. He stripped off his bulky gloves, his outer wear and even his cloak. A Jedi faced the cave without any of it, letting the Force warm his body.
Obi-Wan stood and faced the recesses of the cave, stood loosely with arms at his side. He waited for the cave to speak to him. He would not rush his entrance. The crystals that he sought would call to him but they had to sense his presence first.
He knelt, not noticing the warmth of his knee melting the ice into slush, the slush numbing his knee and cold stealing up and down the leg. His mind reached out for the Force and touched it, waiting for it to beckon him forward.
Finally he felt the soft lure as the Force wrapped itself around him. Now, it gently commanded and sent him on his way. It left him then, to meet him in the crystal cave. He would have to get there on his own, for no Jedi passed from the entrance to the cave within, only the living being with all its faults and strengths made the journey. He would bring nothing with him, but that which he chose.
Obi-Wan stood, and the icy slush fell away from his knee without his notice. Focused, he slowly advanced without bravado, clearing his mind. Whispers, words without meaning, began to invade his mind, whispers that resolved into words, warnings.
You are not worthy, you have failed. Obi-Wan heard, but did not listen. His steps continued on steadily. The whispers grew louder, beat against his mind. You let your master down. You were taken out of the fight and he nearly died because of you.
Obi-Wan's steps faltered, and he blinked, resumed his slow march. He rounded a corner, and saw Qui-Gon lying dead in front of him, dead on a cold marble floor and eyes open in the vacant stare of death.
No, his mind spoke firmly. Qui-Gon lives.
Qui-Gon could have died. This is what might have happened, because of your failure to stay at his side. Obi-Wan shook his head, blinking away tears. I have faced this, he told himself. I thought he was dead. Yet he lives.
And you blamed yourself because you let him die, the whispers continued.
I erred only in that I fought, and in battles, errors happen, he spoke firmly and walked through the vision of Qui-Gon. He caught his breath as he felt himself falling…falling… and he reached out and grabbed a protrusion in a hollow core, a bottomless pit that spoke his name.
You die here.
No, I live here, he said and walked on.
He brought his lightsaber around in a desperate attempt to stave off the Sith's blade. There was only one way to meet the Sith and live. Let the rage within him free itself and lend strength to his movements. The Sith's lightsaber was whistling towards him and he could not block it by himself. He could only block it with hate and rage.
The two lightsabers locked and the two stared at each other through eyes yellow with hate. He who hated more, he who raged more, would be the one to live. Obi-Wan suddenly knew he could win this fight. He hadn't fully let go, all he had to do was ignore the weak part of him that was telling him to pull back, that it was better to die bathed in light than to drown in darkness.
He faced the light in him, prepared to extinguish its flame and saw what he loved most in danger of being killed by the very thing that so honored and loved it. No, he couldn't – he saw what he hated, and it was within him. There was only one thing he could do to keep the light alive. He had to let the darkness be defeated. Even if it killed him, he would still live in the light, in the Force. He looked at the Sith and let the rage and hate flee from him. The Sith could kill him, but the darkness within him would be destroyed.
The light would survive, and live. That was the only survival that mattered to him.
There was only one way to live, to let the light live – to die. He stood, and watched as the lightsaber descended towards him, face upturned and a faint smile on his face.
I die here, but as a Jedi in the light, his mind whispered - and he was kneeling in an icy cavern with the Force strong within him and face upturned.
Obi-Wan blinked and wiped tears from his eyes. Remember the light, nurture it, and all will be well, the Force whispered. It is within you, all you have to do is seek it, and remember. When all around you is embers and darkness, fear not that you have failed, for you will be the one to rekindle the light with the light within you. You shall be present at the end of an age, and at the birth of a new one.
Already he felt the words fading from within him, nothing more than a wisp of a dream slipping away from his thoughts, ethereal and insubstantial and barely remembered. It left behind a lingering echo, of peace and serenity that would spark within him when the time came to awaken it.
I live for the light, and I will die for it, he found himself whispering, and he felt a chill, as he had just spoken the truth of his life's end. If that is how it shall end, I shall embrace it, he murmured.
Now it was time to focus on his task. The cave had accepted him.
He let the crystals speak to him, direct his eyes. He knelt on the floor and cupped one within his hands and the ice released its grip on it. Obi-Wan carefully scooped it within his hands; it felt warm but he was not surprised. When the right crystal and the right Jedi were united, it should feel warm. He waited to see if a second crystal called to him, for a lightsaber could be built with one, two or three crystals. None did.
He moved to a different area of the vast cavern, where parts and power cells waited and he patiently fashioned a new lightsaber, letting the Force guide his hands and design it for him. When it was assembled, he focused his attention on it and smiled and gave a few swings with it. It felt right in his hands, balanced.
He thumbed on the switch and it sprang to life, an icy blue blade much like his first lightsaber.
"I will wield you with honor, and in service of the light," he told it, and attached it to his belt. It hung there comfortably against his hip.
Before he left, leaving behind a packet of parts for the Jedi who might follow him to fashion his or her own lightsaber from scratch – most Jedi pre-assembled theirs at the Temple before coming for the crystal – he took a last look around. It might be the last time he would come here, other than to accompany his young padawan to the cave entrance, there to wait for another to complete his first lightsaber.
He hoped this lightsaber would not leave his side. He had no wish to face the visions again. He had made his peace with his demons.
With one last look around, he left, one hand resting on the hilt, assuring him that it was at his side.