Chapter I

A long time ago in a galaxy far, far away…

THE DARK CRUSADE

War is over! Former Supreme Chancellor Sheev Palpatine had been exposed as the mysterious Sith Lord and awaits trial. Democracy is restored.

Still fearful of the powers of the dark side, the Jedi Order demands a crusade against any dark practitioners of the Force. A new conflict has begun.

Determined to maintain peace within the galaxy, the Council has sent Jedi Knight Yula Jade and her Padawan, Beka Wyn, to the Outer Rim to investigate the economically susceptible planet Lothal for dark side involvement…

"Master!" A panicked voice called from outside the stationed Jedi starship. A tremor in the Force caused Yula to snap her head toward the sound, recognizing the fearful cry of her young Padawan. Looking out the ship's window, she saw the young girl running towards the transport, her lightsaber dangling loosely in her grasp. She was running lopsided, her free hand placed tenderly on the side of her body; the wind had picked up, and her incoherent screams were lost within the current.

With little time to think, Yula dashed down the ship's main corridor toward the cockpit. Though her intensive training had prepared her for such circumstances, it seemed as if her mind was blank as she jammed her fingers against the array of buttons on the control panel, trying to lower the boarding ramp before Beka approached the shuttle. She could feel the intense vibrations of her heart pounding inside her chest, and a line of perspiration formed along her hairline. It was vital to both of the girls' safety that she cleared her mind…

Once she heard the rattling noise of the lowered boarding ramp, she darted toward the main hull, the soles of her boots pounding against the ship's metal flooring. Her fingers grazed the hilt of her lightsaber, and she steadied her labored breathing to listen for her Padawan's faint footsteps.

"Beka," she called out, hearing her voice echo throughout the seemingly empty ship, "Are you alright?"

After Beka's lack of response, Yula could feel her worries bubble back up in her chest; her lightsaber shook slightly beneath her grasp. She knew better than to send her Padawan out alone... She was just a young girl, barely sixteen, and needed much more training before exploring the dangers of the Outer Rim by herself. What had she been thinking?

Mustering all of her courage, Yula turned the corner, taking in the sight of her wounded apprentice laying by the entrance of the transport. Her back heaved as she laid face first against the cold tile; the dust had swollen her throat, and a broken bone somewhere in her body prevented her from standing on her own.

"Beka!" Yula fell to her knees, her adrenaline high hindering her sudden pain, and rolled Beka on her back so she could examine her dirt-caked face. She pushed a strand of blonde hair away from the girl's neck, trying to feel for a sign of life. When her pulse thumped against Yula's fingertips, she reached for her shoulders, giving her paralyzed body a rough shake. "Can you hear me, young one? Wake up!"

Her eyes fell to the Beka's side, where she had taken the most damage. Her light brown overtunic was stained with blood, and so much of it that Yula assumed it could not all have been her own. A deep slash tore across her abdomen, separating the upper and lower halves of her torso. She was not a healer, nor did she have any medical knowledge, but the sight of the wound sent a shiver down her spine.

She could not help but feel responsible. Well, of course she was: she was the Master, and she had let her young Padawan wander about the vast prairies without her supervision. She had always heard stories from the older, much wiser Jedi Masters who had lost their Padawans, and she did not want to be among them. Padawans were not supposed to die before their masters.

Beka's body stirred as her eyes darted frantically beneath her eyelids. Yula jerked her head to face the girl, her heart beat rising while she waited for Beka to waken. Her eyes fluttered open, bringing her back into the world around her. The pain in her midsection was impossible to ignore; the sore had become much stronger with the draining loss of her adrenaline.

Using all of her remaining energy, she reached out to touch her Master's cheek, "I'm sorry."

A twinge of guilt pulled at her heartstrings, and she pushed a loose strand of hair behind Beka's ears, dirt crumbling beneath her touch. "Child, there is nothing for you to be sorry about. I was foolish to think that you were read to be out on your own," She lowered her head in shame, unable to look her in the eye, "It is my duty to protect you, and I have failed."

Beka gasped as her wounds throbbed; she felt as if her bones were crumbling beneath her skin, unable to support her feeble body for much longer, "We have to head back to Coruscant... It's not safe here... We must tell the Jedi…"

"What danger is there?" Yula watched as Beka's eyes fluttered, fighting to send her back into her deep slumber. She clutched her shoulders, shaking her back to their reality, "What have you found?"

"These... beings are not anyone I am familiar with, M-master," When she closed her eyes, she could vividly remember the red glow of their weapons and how they stared at her with fierce animosity. They did not know her, but they knew life, and they hated her for it. "They are not Sith; they are different."

Yula could feel the last bits of life draining from her Padawan as if she had been the one struck down. With crestfallen eyes, she grabbed onto her hand, giving her limp fingers a light squeeze. "Beka, you must stay with me; we are going to head back to Coruscant immediately. But, I need you to tell me all that you know about these beings... Whatever you can tell me…"

"They were wild... The way they used the lightsaber was u-unconventional," The fear had returned to her eyes as she replayed the memory in her mind, "They are more dangerous than any dark practitioner we have ever known."

Beka's head fell back against the metal floor with a slight thud when her weakened arms could no longer support her. Yula felt the Force settle around her, taking the pain with her as she departed. Tears filled the brims of her eyes, but she did not dare let them fall; she could hear her Master's voice in her mind reminding her to not give into her emotion. She did not have time to grieve; it was seldom that she had time for anything.

From outside the transport, a violent noise echoed through the stormy valley. A terrific crack of lightning flashed across the sky, illuminating the dark inside of the shuttle for half of a moment. In the distance, she could sense the approaching tremor of the dark side. They were coming.

Clearing her mind, she wrapped an arm around Beka's lifeless body as she dragged it down the ship's main corridor, a shuffling sound grazing against the metal flooring. A thunderous roar frightened her, causing her to stumble, and the loud crash presumably confirmed her location. The button to activate the cockpit door was within her reach, and she could hear the nearing stampede rumble from the outside.

Before her finger could push the button, a terrible banging from the other side of the boarding ramp rang throughout the transport. It was too late.

She had failed.

An incoherent whisper hummed throughout the Jedi Council Chamber. The morning daylight danced about the room, casting an enchanting warmth. In the center, Mace Windu stood with a crease in his brow, his thumb and index fingers rubbing his bare chin; his mind was somewhere else. Beside him, Jedi Masters Yoda and Ki-Adi-Mundi shared similar expressions, reflecting on the events of the previous days.

"He has been in our captivity unit for three days now, Master," Ki-Adi-Mundi gently whispered, "The Council must decide immediately."

Mace frowned, "How can a decision like this be rushed? The entire fate of the galaxy is at our hands," He looked about the room at the other members of the Council; it was a decision meant for hundreds of galactic leaders, not a handful of Jedi Masters. The most peaceful option was to imprison Palpatine, but a secret part of him wished to be the one to sentence him to death, and it would have been much deserved. However, it was a heavy decision to make: should the Jedi Council allow a Sith mastermind to live, or should they finish him for good whilxe he was at their mercy?

"Vote today, we must. Waiting, the galaxy is," Yoda glanced between the two Jedi Masters, "Choose the option that leads to peace, we must."

With a slight nod of the head and a deep breath, Mace turned before the members of the Council. All throughout the room, Jedi stood - or sat - waiting patiently for the vote to begin; they wanted to celebrate their much deserved victory before the thrill wore off.

He cleared his throat before he began, "Ladies and gentlemen of the Council, we gather here today to vote upon a punishment for the discovered Sith Lord, Sheev Palpatine…"

Toward the side of the room, Obi-Wan Kenobi sat comfortably, his legs crossed, while he listened to Mace Windu give his speech. He was still trying to familiarize himself with referring to Palpatine as an enemy rather than the Chancellor. When he had entered the Council Chamber for the first time in a while, there had been a sense of relief - and excitement - that buzzed through the Force, but he could not reciprocate the liberating sensation.

Regardless that the interminable war had come to an end, he was still living inside the mind and body of General Kenobi.

While Mace's voice drained on in the background, Obi-Wan felt his body call him to a slumber he most definitely needed. He felt as if he was beyond the point of exhaustion, and it was by a miracle of the Force that he had made it through the entirety of the Clone Wars with the minimal sleep he had. He had dedicated countless hours to negotiating, strategizing, and pushing his body to the extreme that he seldom had the time to rest.

His breathing slowed while his eyes fluttered. The temperature of the room was just perfect enough for him to doze off, however, just before his eyelids could touch, a half-whisper beside him brought him back to his surroundings.

"I don't think that this is right," He glanced over to see Anakin, shaking his head in apparent disapproval. Obi-Wan looked about the room in confusion, curious about Anakin's rant since the vote had not yet taken place. However, before he could inquire, Anakin continued, "This man has caused so much trouble and all we are going to do is imprison him."

Obi-Wan furrowed his brow, "But, I didn't vote…"

"It didn't matter; over half of the Council had already agreed to imprisonment before they got to us. Our votes would have been meaningless," Before he continued, he narrowed his eyes as he looked back at Obi-Wan, "Well, my vote, that is."

Obi-Wan winced as a headache formed in the base of his forehead. He longed for the chance to be away from the commotion and meditate alone in his quarters. To dissolve the pain, he shut his eyes for a moment, cautious not to drift into sleep. "Then what do you suggest?" He finally replied, dryly.

Ignoring his sardonic tone, Anakin turned his attention back to the Masters as they gathered around the center of the room, congratulating one another for finally coming to a decision. He felt that the Council had let Palpatine get away too easy, however, they did not have a personal vendetta against the man. "I don't see why he can't be executed. And, don't tell me it's not the 'Jedi way'. He's still a threat to all of us, even in his cell."

"He is a weak old man, Anakin," Obi-Wan paused for a moment as he reflected on Palpatine's punishment. The thought of the Sith Lord locked away in a prison - stripped of all his ability - brought a brief wave of calmness he had not felt since before the war, and perhaps some time before then, even. "Besides, I would like to think that I shall take comfort in knowing Palpatine will spend the rest of his miserable life in a cell."

"I wasn't aware that you had such a cynical side, Master," Anakin rolled his eyes as he rose from his chair, stretching his arms out in front of him. The rest of the members of the Council were beginning to disperse from the Chamber, and Anakin wished to be present for Palpatine's imprisonment, if nothing else.

Obi-Wan stifled a yawn as he folded his arms across the front of his light brown overtunic. He followed alongside Anakin, attempting to mirror his hurried strides. "Oh, I suppose this war can do that: bring out the cynic in all of us."

It had not been the first time that Anakin had heard Obi-Wan refer to the war as if they were still living in that dreadful world. He knew of the struggles that his former master endured throughout the Clone Wars, and he presumed that reality had not yet set in. Obi-Wan had been at the frontline of nearly every battle, and for those that he was not, he was busy behind-the-scenes planning attacks or engaging in diplomatic negotiations. If there had been anyone more dedicated to the war effort than General Kenobi, he would have been surprised.

"The war is over, Master," he reminded him rather bluntly.

Obi-Wan tried to match his eyes to Anakin's, in a desperate attempt to appear more natural than he felt, but he couldn't muster the courage; he was too afraid that if he looked, he would see what he had hoped had been left behind with the Clone Wars. Instead, he offered half a smile, "I know."

It had been far too satisfying to witness Palpatine's punishment (though, Anakin felt, not his most deserved). The weakness that swelled throughout the former Chancellor's being was gratifying; it seemed like the almost perfect end to the great war. at the moment, he was grateful that he did not turn to the dark side, for he knew that he would have been nothing more than the Emperor's puppet, and he was not one to be controlled.

Though, he could not find the will to ignore the memories, regardless of how hard he tried. He knew that it would haunt him until the end of his days thinking about the terrible things he had endured while under Palpatine's forceful command. He might have been free from the Emperor's persuasive powers, but he knew that the path to becoming a true Jedi would prove to be a difficult one.

When he was much younger, many years before the start of the Clone Wars, Qui-Gon Jinn had envisioned a strong future for him. It was difficult for a child of such young age to grasp the idea of a prophecy, but he let it serve as a sense of hope when times were troublesome. Whenever he thought he wasn't as skilled as the other Padawans, he would remind himself that he was to be the Chosen One, and one day he would outrank them all. He had always searched for the same optimism in his Master, but he found there to be none.

He had felt like a burden to Obi-Wan. The young Jedi Knight whom had been thrust into the life of training the Chosen One looked at the small boy as if he killed Qui-Gon himself. Obi-Wan had become more like a father than a mentor, as he was overly critical and spent too much time lecturing Anakin on trivial matters that would come to mean nothing. He had always known that his Master would have done anything for him - it was his duty, after all - but Anakin knew that this had not been the future he had envisioned for himself.

After Qui-Gon had passed, it had taken Obi-Wan many years to warm up to Anakin; whenever he looked at him all he could remember was the way his Master felt in his arms as he let go of the life he had left in him. As Anakin matured, and Obi-Wan grew more tired, things had become normal; they fell into a perfect pattern, forgetting what it had been like all those years before when the weight of the prophecy had been too much for two young people to handle. They were a unique duo - more father and son like than Master and Padawan.

But now, it had been destroyed. Anakin despised how Obi-Wan refused to look at him while he spoke. He hated how he could see the glare of his own lightsaber reflecting in his Master's eyes. For the first time since he was a young Padawan, Anakin felt as if he was Obi-Wan's burden.

Things would never be the same; he knew that the Masters could expel him from the Council, never trusting him with covert missions or diplomatic negotiations again. He was to be ostracized from his peers and live out the rest of his days as an aging man without a fitting title to his name.

It had been a harsh awakening for him to realize that, perhaps, he was not the prophetic being the Jedi had been hoping for. The world he grew up in had always been one patiently waiting for him to bring balance to the Force, but it seemed as if his purpose was meaningless. Though he had stayed with the Light and the Sith were put to rest once again, he was not the rightful bearer of the prophecy, and he never had been. Where would they be if Obi-Wan had not swayed Anakin from the temptation of the dark side?

He could not bear the thought any longer; the agony that swelled throughout his being, gnawing at the pit of his stomach, disgusted him. He was supposed to be relieved that the war had ended, and he was the father of two healthy children. His feelings toward Obi-Wan would pass in time…

He had lost himself in thought as he absently stared out toward the purple skyline of the hectic megacity. In all directions, colorful transport shuttles buzzed about, flying atop an invisible roadway that wound through the skyscrapers, and he could not help but imagine how a normal life would be. The people of Coruscant were a busy lot; they often frequented nightclubs and restaurants and, most importantly, did not have to worry about a lingering code that dictated their lives; he envied the simplicity of it all.

"Anakin," A soft voice called from behind him. Without turning to face his wife, he remained postured at the edge of the balcony, keeping his sight narrowed on the frantic world around him. "Why don't you come to bed?"

"I'm not tired," He lied. Padmé padded her way toward him, the hem of her silky nightgown grazing across the tile; the light breeze sent a ripple through her dark curls, and the dim light from the dark night illuminated her face, giving her an angelic glow.

She extended her arm to delicately touch the fabric of his over tunic, "You expect me to believe that after all you have been through that you aren't the least bit exhausted?" She waited for him to answer and make his way toward their bedroom, but instead, he kept his jaw tight as he stared into the distance. "Why don't you tell me what's bothering you? Is it... Palpatine? You haven't told me much about him, you know."

He felt something inside of him break; Padmé was oblivious to the war that waged beneath his skin, the malevolence calling him to a place he knew better than to go. She did not know that the dark side surged throughout his veins, his body lusting for its power. It would have killed him to see the heartache in her eyes if she were to know the terrible things he had thought - that he had done.

Years before, by the lakes of Naboo, he had broken his own oath and sworn to her a marriage based on truth. In a perfect world, he would have kept his promise, but the world was far from perfect. It was cruel, but it did not have to be that way for his wife and children. They were pure - purer than anything he had ever felt in the Force - and he could not taint their innocence.

He would tell her some of it; she deserved that much, at least. Finally, for the first time that night, Anakin shifted his body toward the concerned face of his wife, fighting back the tears, while he partially admitted, "I can't help but think of the prophecy," He winced, a teardrop rolling down his cheek, "I failed, Padmé; I don't think that I'm the Chosen One."

She frowned, taking a wide step back to eye her husband, "The war is over and Palpatine is in prison; I don't see how it's possible for you to have failed at anything."

"I have failed at many things; I failed at staying true to the Code, and I failed in restoring peace," He stopped for a moment to shake his head while he collected his thoughts. He could feel the temperature rising around him, bringing him back to the night on Mustafar. The dangerous thoughts that raged through his mind came spiraling back to him, and before he could stop them, he spewed, "I didn't restore peace; I was ready to abandon it. Obi-Wan is the hero; he is the Jedi that I will never become. He is everything I love and everything I loathe about the Jedi."

It hurt her heart to hear her husband speak of himself in such a low manner. In her eyes, she saw Anakin as a true galactic hero; it was impossible to count how many times his actions had won battles and saved innocent lives. Whenever she was out in the city, she heard people speak of him in high regard; he was loved by many throughout the galaxy, and she would not let him give up on himself, not after all he had accomplished. "You listen to me, Anakin: you are the best Jedi that I know. For years you have been comparing yourself to Obi-Wan. You're right, he is a great Jedi, but so are you."

He shook his head, "You don't know all of what I've been through."

"I don't need to know for me to see that you are a wonderful Jedi," She paused for a moment to take a step toward him, closing the distance between them by wrapping her arms around his waist, "Whether there is a prophecy or not, don't let that be your merit. You are worth much more than ancient words, my love."

As he searched her gentle eyes, he felt his misery dissolve, evaporating into a place where he would no longer have to worry about finding it. The prophecy was old man's talk, and he was young and very much in love with the life he had created - the life he molded without the burden of a code, something that Obi-Wan had been unable to do.

Obi-Wan stood in the center of his compartment, his mind wandering about in absent thought (a place it should not have been). Beneath his curled fingers he held a mug of caf that he could not remember pouring. He lifted the brim to his lips and grimaced when the liquid touched his tongue. He would need more than a cold mug of caf to bring him back to reality.

His body was exhausted, and the bed in the other room yearned for him, but he couldn't bring himself to lay in it; he was afraid of what he may see if he slept. When he was younger, he had thought that Jedi didn't have nightmares, and he was worried to prove his youthful self wrong. Alongside not sleeping, he had been avoiding looking into the mirror in his refresher, fearful to find deep purple rings carved beneath his eyes.

He knew that he had felt better - more alive - during the war, and the thought made his body swell with guilt. There were many home worlds destroyed and innocent lives lost during the war, and it would be cruel to glorify such an awful moment in history for his well-being.

The war had been a blur for him; he was sure he would never remember the majority of the battles that history would come to tell. There had been so much negotiating, fighting, and death that at one point during the war, he could no longer distinguish which events had happened when. His chest felt hollow, however, the constant twinge at his heart was enough to remind him that his life was indeed his own.

The one thing he could not forget - no matter how desperately he tried - was the agony that radiated from Anakin. There was something inside of the young man he feared had been there but hoped was nothing more than just a worry. Now, however, after the night on Mustafar, there was no point in denying it. There was no ignoring the dark side that pulsated throughout Anakin's being.

A part of him had always known it, regardless of his efforts to pretend he didn't. He knew of the terrible force that lived within Anakin since he was a small boy on Tatooine. It didn't matter that Obi-Wan had tried to shake it from him, the warning signs were always there, lurking within him like a monster. And yet, Obi-Wan told no one. Anakin looked deep into his eyes and told him he hated him, but he kept it to himself. He could not betray his friend. His brother.

Obi-Wan still loved him, regardless of how the Force painted itself a deep crimson around him. He would love him, always; it was his biggest flaw.

That day on Mustafar, with Anakin's lightsaber ablaze and hatred burning in his eyes, he finally understood why the Jedi forbid attachment. It was to protect them; it was to save them from what loving someone could truly do.

He learned that love was a serpent with a beautiful, poisonous bite.

Hello guys! So, I originally meant to post this chapter on Friday, but it was in desperate need of an entire rewrite that took about two days to do. Anyway, as I said before, I have tons to come in this story, and I promise more interesting things are to come! I have already written 2 and a half more chapters, but I assume they are going to need rewrites as well. I hope that you guys are enjoying it so far, please let me know your thoughts! :-)