Inheritance
45.
Kenobi throws himself straight into the heart of darkness.
And I am not far behind. The thing has come home to its lair, summoned by some vital and driving beacon, by the presence of a new vergence here in the place of its origin. Severed from its focal point, it seeks to coalesce within and around the new one, a vortex of power and fear rushing in toward the Skywalker boy as starlight plummets endlessly into a black hole.
The boy is dangerous.
And more than that, he is in terrible danger.
Kenobi's voice is harsh with cognizance of this fact, even if he does not understand the full extent of the horror here embodied. He calls for the boy over and over, but all sound seems to be absorbed into the pitch black of the first cave. It is so cold here that our breath rises in ghostly clouds before our eyes, weirdly illumined by the glow of two saber blades. The weapons' signature humming note echoes over and over again, blending into the Dark's rising chant.
I know the words. It is a Sith litany, a curse upon the servants of Light, a bloody and perverse oath sworn on the altar of hatred.
"Skywalker!" I call out, louder than the formless whispers of malice.
There is no answer.
Ahead of me, Kenobi presses onward. His breath comes in rasping pants, for here we are intruders in the fiefdom of a hostile principality, and the Dark drags in our blood, buffets our minds with excoriating hate.."He's in the last cave, master. I have to find him… he shouldn't be here."
But neither should we. This is a domain of evil, a place steeped in the Dark side long before any life set foot on this world. For us, it is a place of trial.
We squeeze into the second chamber together, and marvel at the ithyll crystals refracting our sabers' twin light into infinite splendor. Dark drips from the milky stalactites, pools on the hardened floor, seeps along the glittering walls. The Dark's song rises, triumphant and mocking.
"Anakin!"
There is a tiny light flaring through the narrow crack beyond. The boy is in there – Force knows why – and –
"Master!"
Kenobi rushes to the opening, grasps the edges of the narrow fissure. "Anakin! Get out of there! Now!"
The very air in this cave contracts into a majestic silence. My flesh prickles with premonition. The monster is coming. It is already here. It waits and listens, but soon it will –
"No!" the Padawan hollers, his voice peaking into a desperate shriek. "I have to stay! I've gotta slay it! It's coming for me, master! It's gonna kill everybody and everything and I gotta to do this! I'm the one it wants!"
"Anakin! You aren't strong enough to –"
"Go away! I've gotta do this! You can't stop me- I gotta!"
The shadows playing among the roof echo with a sudden chilling laughter, and here, before my astonished eyes, the jabuur-weki descends … taking the form of fear itself, oozing downward until it stands before me, a thousand eyes peering from the dusk of a jungle, blinking orbs surmounted by a crown of horns, armed with blue fire. The lightning erupts about me, and I repel the first assault, bile rising in my throat at this abomination. It is real. It is here. It is the concatenation of all nightmares, the consummation of every nameless dread.
And it has come. This is the moment of reckoning.
"Obi-Wan!" I yell, as the monster rears up, maleficent, "Get the boy and go!"
Only one Jedi will perish here, if such must be the end. I know, I have foreseen, that my own death comes in hand to hand combat with Darkness. If this is that day, then I will not fail to protect the Order with my last breath.
Kenobi scrambles through the narrow doorway into the innermost chamber, cursing as he writhes his way through; Skywalker hollers some incoherent protest - and the jabuur-weki falls upon me in terrifying majesty, in full battle array.
My saber exults as it leaps forth to challenge the impossible foe; I give myself over to the will of the Force, to be the blade and crystal of the Light. The jabuur-weki is fear, and pain, and loss, and failure and despair. It is the Dark.
And this is Vaapad.
This is the dance on hell's brink, on the cusp of a gaping chasm; this is the final conquest of fear, for it is the mirror of darkness. I face the creature, my blade against its wrath, and fold myself deep within the Light, within its impenetrable fastness. The jabuur-weki throws itself against me with the finality of extinction, and its power rebounds and shatters against my defense, Dark meeting a flawless mirror, hatred turned back against itself, gnawing predatory fire twisted into its own origin. I do nothing; Light does nothing but stand firm, even in the midst of blazing motion, screaming violet fire. I am the jabuur-weki, for it is a thing bred from the fear of its beholder; and I am the jabuur-weki's master, for Vaapad is the taming of the Dark, the subjection of fear.
The battle rages, until the cave is filled with razored shadows, purple fire cast in bright streaks upon the gleaming walls, black rage dripping between them, the roar of the monster flooding my every sense, shaking the foundations of this world. Again and again the thing spits lightning, and again and again I block savage destruction.
But I will admit, I am on the defensive… and what blow can I strike against such a foe? It is a cancerous malformation of the Force itself, and I but a man.
Within the last cave, I hear Kenobi and the Skywalker boy shouting, screaming at each other, a disturbance that arrests even the monster's dire attention. The thing billows, smoky yet solid, rippling with blue fire, shuddering in some hot ethereal wind, and howls its frustration into the void.
We are at a stalemate, this monster and I; fear and fearlessness stand in sterile opposition, neither supreme. I clutch my hands to my head, for the shrill agony of its voice seems to drive into my very soul.
And then it contracts, and in a rush of wind, in a blaze of dark fury, it turns to the inner cave and flows pitiless through the narrow gap, intent on destruction.
The very Force seems to cry out in unison with the Skywalker boy, his childish voice ringing with a passion far too profound to be encompassed by one so young.
I fly to the opening, but I cannot pass through the narrow gap. And what I see beyond stops my breath, perhaps my very heart.
May the Force be with us.
