Seventeen

Her life had spiraled out of control…again.

That was Padmé's most pertinent thought as she studied the lightened ring of scars around her neck in the smudged transparisteel of the Lars' single fresher and tried to bridle her mounting panic. In retrospect, she supposed she should have been prepared for more turmoil. Loving Anakin Skywalker also meant living with the near constant drama that encapsulated his world. She had learned that in the very early days of their "courtship" when he had confessed to her that he was a time-traveling former Sith lord. It had been a whirlwind of wonderful chaos ever since.

She had never regretted it, but she did sometimes lament the loss of orderly predictability in her life, especially during moments like the present when she was enduring some of the most stressful days she'd ever known. And there was no end in sight. In a span of little more than 96 standard hours, she had been hit with one life-altering truth after another, each one provoking its own catastrophic consequences, before everything finally culminated in her children deciding that neither of their parents could be trusted and running away from home. But the most shocking piece of development by far had been the revelation that she was going to become a mother again at 38 years old.

Just the mere thought caused Padmé to recoil inwardly, but not because she found the idea of another baby entirely objectionable. Under different circumstances, the news would have been shocking and surprising, but it would not have struck her as a potential, looming disaster. Unfortunately, the circumstances were hardly ideal…and neither was her pregnancy. She didn't hate the prospect of having another child, but she also didn't love it either. It felt too surreal.

Even after Anakin had made the pronouncement with such authority, as if he could look directly into her body to see their child's tiny, beating heart, Padmé had continued to harbor some degree of skepticism. At the time, she hadn't been sure if her feelings were born from pride or outright denial. She didn't feel pregnant after all. Or, at least, she wasn't manifesting any physical changes that she would have attributed to pregnancy.

She was overwhelmed. It was too much information that came too soon and was delivered too fast. Padmé had barely absorbed the news before it was time for her to say goodbye to Anakin. Her acceptance had come on gradually later on, long after Anakin, Obi-Wan and Ahsoka had departed Tatooine. Only then did she begin to carefully parse the information in her own mind.

Besides a single bout of vomiting, her only symptoms were tender breasts, extreme fatigue and a late menstrual. All of that could be easily explained away. She was weary but she also hadn't enjoyed a proper night's rest since Anakin had returned and well before that. Her near constant worry over her children had unsettled her stomach to nauseating degrees. And it had been years since she'd had a regular monthly, which she had always attributed to the perpetual threat of death and danger under which she had lived.

Had Anakin not said anything, it was likely that she would have begun mulling over the possibility herself in the ensuing days after she had become more cognizant, but the suspicion would have been slower to surface. At least, she would have had the time and space to come to terms with the prospect first. That was the disadvantage of being surrounded by Force sensitives. There was always the chance that they would perceive the gravity of a situation long before anyone else. To Anakin's credit, he hadn't willfully bludgeoned her with the news. In truth, she had pressed him for it, but that didn't make acceptance any easier.

She had never been comfortable with the idea of Anakin knowing things that she did not. She had envied the natural bond he shared with Luke through the Force and their effortless ability to communicate with one another without words. That connection had been present for them from the start while Padmé had required time to get to know her new son. There was no doubt that she had loved Luke unconditionally from the start. She would have given her life for him in an instant. But she didn't know him, not like Anakin. From the moment he accepted his son's existence, Anakin knew Luke like no other.

Padmé had anticipated the same would prove true for Leia as well, but then Anakin had vanished. Now he was back, and she sincerely wished that the bond that had provoked so much secret jealousy before would spring up easily and dispel the estrangement between father and daughter. The irony was that the bond did exist, though not for the daughter she'd been hoping for. Now everything was a confusing mess and she feared they might never sort it out. A new pregnancy wouldn't help matters.

The knowledge was disconcerting, but there was little she could do to change those circumstances now. Though they'd had little time to discuss it, Padmé already knew that Anakin was thrilled. That much had been obvious. The joy had been stamped all over him when he said, "I think we're having another girl." He probably saw this newest baby as a means of redemption, a chance to correct the missteps he'd made with Luke and Leia and recapture the years he had lost with them.

Padmé, on the other hand, was mostly ambivalent. She wasn't resistant to the idea of becoming a mother again, but she wasn't excited either. In a strange twist of irony, she could now appreciate the complicated emotions and general lack of enthusiasm Anakin displayed when she first told him about Luke. She was running the gambit of similar emotions and joy was not one of them.

Initially, after Anakin had delivered the news, her initial dread didn't really register with her. She had attributed that sick feeling in her stomach to concern over Luke and Leia. Mostly, she had been too shocked by the news to process it. She also hadn't had the time. Anakin had been set to depart Tatooine and worry for him and their children was all she could manage. Consequently, she had been determined not to dwell on it.

Her primary concern was Luke and Leia. Her babies were missing. They were far from home, and they were in danger. She couldn't think about anything beyond their safe return home. But that worthy distraction only worked for so long.

Owen and Beru had done their best to keep her busy and distracted throughout the day. Yet, by the time night fell and all was quiet, Padmé was inevitably left alone to confront her distressing thoughts. That internal agony eventually drove her from her bed for hours of aimless wandering around the homestead before she inevitably found herself in the fresher studying her own haggard reflection.

She and Anakin had not been planning for another baby. They had never even discussed the possibility of having more children at all. Their mutual focus had been on reconnecting as a couple and as a family. There had been no room for anything else, not when Padmé was relearning how to make decisions as a marital unit rather than a single parent and Anakin had been focused on strengthening his own parental bonds with Luke and Leia.

Another child seemed out of the question, not only due to the timing and circumstances but because Padmé was already well into her late thirties. Luke would be thirteen soon and Leia would turn eleven only a few short months after that. Her babies had blossomed into young adolescents, and she had entered a new phase in her life where she was relatively uninterested in raising another child. New motherhood was not on her agenda or anything she had foreseen for her future. Now it was all she could think about.

The challenges that lay ahead were numerous and vast. She fretted, not only about how her and Anakin's lives would change with a newborn underfoot, but about all the special considerations that came with raising a Force sensitive child. And she didn't doubt for one second that the baby would be Force sensitive. But there was something more that she hadn't anticipated. Something she hadn't experienced with either of her two previous pregnancies.

This child was already changing her…

Though it had barely been more than a day, her pregnancy was beginning to manifest itself in the most incredible way. The differences were subtle enough that it was highly doubtful that anyone would note the changes at a glance or even comment on them. But Padmé recognized them.

She was acutely aware of the sudden decrease of silver in her dark curls. The gradual fading of the numerous battle scars she had acquired over the years. Even the fine lines of age at the corners of her eyes and mouth had begun to reduce, as if she were being rejuvenated from the inside out. She could see the metamorphosis with her own eyes and that was all the confirmation Padmé needed that this pregnancy, this child wouldn't be at all comparable to Luke and Leia. Raising this child would be more challenging…something incomprehensible, and she honestly didn't know how she felt about that.


Anakin felt Padmé's anxiety ripple out at him across the Force and he groaned to himself. She was understandably alarmed and overwhelmed. He wanted to comfort her, to reassure her that she didn't have to worry and that they could weather any challenge as long as they stayed together. But, at the same time, he couldn't afford to allow himself to become distracted, not even for her. It was an incredibly painful truth to acknowledge because he never wanted her to be secondary in anything. But prioritizing his own feelings typically didn't net positive results. So, Anakin resolutely pushed his guilt aside to focus on the task ahead.

It had not taken them very long to arrive at Centerpoint Station. They had entered the docking bay only a few minutes after leaving Mortis behind. Predictably, Anakin endured the incredible speed of the journey without any adverse effects. Obi-Wan and Ahsoka, on the other hand, had briefly lost consciousness during the trip and now could barely stand. Anakin tried to wait patiently for both disoriented Jedi to regain their bearings and decided to preoccupy himself with a quick perimeter sweep of the massive station while they did.

Centerpoint Station was, quite possibly, the largest space station that he had ever seen in his life, though seemingly decommissioned. It was approximately 350 kilometers long and 100 kilometers in diameter, relatively the size of a small planetary moon. Though it had been constructed thousands of years ago, the technology found within the ancient relic was surprisingly advanced. Anakin supposed not so "surprising" in hindsight given his knowledge that the Son and Daughter had been its architects. The outer hull of the station had been equipped with a confusing configuration of piping, cables, antennae, cone structures and access ports. But what drew Anakin's attention and held it was the open sphere inside of it, which was located directly in the center of the space station.

The area wasn't abandoned, and they certainly were not alone.

He returned to Obi-Wan and Ahsoka and still found them in the same place he had left them, huddled on their knees, and fighting back violent waves of nausea and vomiting. They looked miserable and, once again, Anakin's pity for them and their evident distress outweighed his impatience. He heaved a commiserative sigh.

"Is there anything I can do?" he asked.

"You've…done…quite enough…thank you…" Obi-Wan managed in between reflexive gagging.

Anakin compressed his lips tightly to keep from laughing and turned a solicitous glance towards Ahsoka. "Snips? You gonna be alright?"

She flashed him a sardonic "thumbs up" while she continued to dry heave though there was nothing left in her stomach to expel. "My…abdominal organs…are now…in my…chest…but…besides that…I'm great…!"

"Sorry," he said, darting anxious looks between her and the exit, "But you need to pull yourself together pretty soon. We have a potential problem."

Obi-Wan flopped onto his back with a plaintive sigh. "Why? What's happened now?" he groaned.

"We're not alone here. They don't know it yet, but they will if we don't get out of sight soon."

The warning provoked yet another groan from Obi-Wan. "Friend or foe?"

"Unclear at the moment. Let's just say I sense that they might not take kindly to our presence here."

Obi-Wan squinted up at him with a baleful expression. "Can you carry us?"

"You're joking right now, aren't you?"

"Well, yes…but only partly," Obi-Wan grunted, finally managing to roll himself upright but not without several winces of discomfort first. "So, what's your plan?" he asked Anakin, "I'm assuming these people mean to do us harm."

"That is also unclear. But they're Force sensitive, so you may want to shield yourselves. And let's get out of sight as soon as possible if we mean to avoid a confrontation."

"Why is that?"

"They'll be here in less than a minute."

Obi-Wan groaned for a third time, but only at the prospect of having to move when he still hadn't yet fully recovered. "Delightful."

In the end, Anakin practically had to half assist, half drag both Obi-Wan and Ahsoka to an appropriate hiding place, a teetering stack of rusted fuel tank containers that had long since run dry. Neither of them was in any condition to walk a straight line right then, let alone agilely scurry out of sight. They were stalwartly suppressing the disoriented moans that resulted from the swift jostling and the massive waves of vertigo that accompanied that movement when the search party arrived.

The group consisted of five individuals, one Zabrak male, who appeared to be the leader, two humans, one male and one female and a Rodian and Bothan, both males. Upon first glance, they hardly seemed a very imposing group. Other than the small pouches that were slung across their torsos, they all appeared to be unarmed. Even Obi-Wan, in his current, weakened state, felt fairly certain he could take them all on his own.

That assessment wasn't a show of arrogance on his part either. The group was so severely malnourished that they appeared practically skeletal. They were so fragile that Obi-Wan didn't doubt that a strong gust of wind could have knocked them off of their feet. Their worn, dirty garments hung heavily from their extremely lean frames, further emphasizing the angled jut of their bones. The Bothan and Zabrak were the tallest of the group, towering over the rest and, were they in a state of health, they might have proven to be formidable adversaries.

At present, however, the Zabrak's crown of horns looked almost too heavy for his head. Some of the ivory tusks were dull and broken or missing altogether. Those that remained were anchored in place by the meager flesh of his skull that barely covered the base of each spike. The Bothan, as well, was mangy in appearance, his head obscenely massive in proportion to his wasted body. His formally imposing mane matted and bare in some spots, his once keen eyes receded even further into his skull.

From their appearance alone, it was a wonder that any in the group was even alive. Surprisingly however, not only were they alive, but they also seemed to move with a stealth and nimbleness that even Obi-Wan and Ahsoka didn't possess at the moment. They hardly acted weak or impaired. They prowled the perimeter of the docking bay like expert hunters before finally coming to converge around the front of Anakin, Ahsoka and Obi-Wan's ship. It was clear that the Force was the only thing sustaining the group otherwise they would have surely all keeled over dead long before that moment. Anakin, Obi-Wan and Ahsoka pressed back deeper into their hiding place while the group of five began to thoroughly inspect the ship, both the interior and exterior.

"It's Zygerrian," the Rodian determined after gliding his thin, suctioned fingers over the ship's still icy hull, "I have seen ships like this before. In the days of Palpatine's Republic. It's a slaver ship."

The observation had Anakin pinning Ahsoka with a daggered glare. "You brought us here in a slaver ship?" he hissed in outrage.

"It's repurposed!" she hissed back, "This is not the time for a lecture!"

They were spared from Obi-Wan's sharp, whispered admonishment over their predictable bickering when the Rodian's next comment provoked them into careful silence. "They haven't been here long. The hull is still crusted with space ice."

"Then they are probably close by," the Bothan said, "It should not be difficult to locate them."

The human male then asked, "Why would a Zygerrian slaver ship come here?"

"Perhaps they are a seeker," the human woman was quick to posit, "In which case, we should welcome them with open arms."

The Zabrak leader shook his heavy head at the consideration. "Our beloved Queen said nothing of new arrivals beyond the Precious Ones," he replied, "This stranger may be lost…or an invader."

"We should locate them," the Bothan reiterated more strongly, "We cannot afford to allow anything or anyone to disrupt our peace here."

"There is no time," the Zabrak told him, "We need to return to Sinkhole with the supplies we have gathered. What good is anything if our bodies falter?"

The human woman placed a surprisingly gentle hand against his cheek and looked up at the Zabrak with what could only be described as reverent affection. "You worry too much, El'daah," she whispered, "The Force will sustain as always."

"Yes," he said, his cracked lips splitting in a brief smile, "You speak wisdom, but food is a physical necessity that we cannot deny. We should conclude our business here and return."

"But what of the intruders?" the Bothan blustered in protest as the Zabrak turned away and the others followed his example, "Will we just leave them here to roam about wherever they wish?"

"There is nothing of true value here," the Zabrak reasoned, "All things of value are found beyond shadows. If they have come to plunder this station, they will be sorely disappointed. Besides, if they are a threat, Abeloth will know, and she will deal with them."

Obi-Wan waited until the group had left the ship's hangar, but not before they had emptied Ahsoka's ship of every scrap of food ration they could find, before he asked Anakin, "What now?"

"These people know Abeloth, and if they know her then they also know where to find Luke and Leia," he replied, "We follow them, of course."

They kept a safe distance as they tracked the group deeper into the bowels of Centerpoint Station, careful to keep themselves guarded in the Force in order to avoid detection. It didn't take a great deal of subterfuge to go unnoticed by the group. They were too preoccupied with tearing into the rations they had stolen from Ahsoka's ship with ravenous gusto to pick up on the fact they were being followed. Little could be heard in the cavernous halls beyond their noisy munching as they practically inhaled a nearly three-month supply of dehydrated food in a matter of minutes. The trail of discarded packaging they left in their wake was easy to track.

Even without the litter of foil wrappers and disposable containers, Anakin already suspected where they were headed. The group was leading them towards the massive sphere in the center of the space station that Anakin had sensed earlier. He already knew that they would find more people there, but what he hoped was that Luke and Leia would be among them. After he had emerged from his meditation session with the Son, Anakin soon realized he had lost the ability to sense both children in the Force. That worried him deeply.

He doubted that any serious harm had befallen them, but they had certainly been drawn somewhere beyond his reach. Anakin knew that was Abeloth's doing. Based on the snatches of conversation he'd overheard, Abeloth had obviously prepared her "followers" for Luke and Leia's arrivals. He suspected that the "precious ones" that the Zabrak had alluded to earlier were indeed in reference to his children. Which meant, of course, that Abeloth had been scheming for this moment for a long time now, very likely from the instant she had encountered Leia and perhaps even before that.

The Son was adamant that Abeloth wanted to use Luke and Leia as replacements for him and his sister. She wanted to recreate what she once had and, in doing so, would corrupt his children beyond redemption. Because her manipulation of Luke and Leia had proven so successful thus far, Anakin feared she might actually achieve her goal. He knew that he was operating within a narrow window of time, which only agitated him further. Consequently, he was prepared to do whatever was necessary to save his children from that awful fate.

He was anticipating that the search party would eventually lead him, Obi-Wan and Ahsoka to some sort of prison hold or an area specially constructed for brainwashing and behavioral conditioning. Anakin tormented himself with visions of Luke and Leia being strapped down against metal tables in a facility much like the ones that he'd had built for the purpose of training Inquisitors to become cold, effective hunters. But what he discovered instead was a vast farming community and village that could have been found on some remote planet out among the stars rather than a forgotten space station. Or, more appropriately, it had been a farming community and village. What had been left behind was little more than barren wasteland.

Among the neat rows of small houses that lined the sprawling landscape were the dead, gnarled remains of what appeared to have been flowering orchards, verdant parks with deep, empty craters that had once been ponds or lakes, and abundant farmland. At some point in its mysterious history, Centerpoint Station had become more than a powerful mechanism designed to keep Abeloth eternally imprisoned. The center of the structure had been transformed into a lush biosphere. Someone had fashioned this place into a home.

Anakin looked around at the remnants of that home life, and he could see the remains of a thriving civilization. But it had been abandoned suddenly. There was evidence of equipment and daily utensils that had been left out, as if an unexpected evacuation had occurred. When Anakin closed his eyes to concentrate, he could hear the echoes of terror that fluttered through the Force, the screaming and running and dying. The people of Centerpoint Station hadn't simply relocated or evacuated. They had been trying to escape something terrible.

He motioned for Obi-Wan and Ahsoka to follow him and they concealed themselves behind a wall of scattered boulders as the party made their way across the barren terrain towards the single patch of greenery in the entire place. There, at least, thirty or so more individuals toiled to harvest what little produce that could be gleaned. Like the five that they had observed earlier, they varied in every sort of species, all Force sensitive and every single individual was emaciated to the point of starvation. Anakin desperately scanned the crowd for a glimpse of Luke and Leia. When he found none, he slumped forward with a disheartened sigh.

Ahsoka scooted closer to him, a confused frown knitting her brow. "I don't understand. If food is so scarce here, why don't they just leave this place?" she reasoned in a low, careful whisper, "It's obvious these people are starving!"

"I wish I could tell you, Snips. I don't understand it either."

On the other side of Ahsoka, Obi-Wan inhaled a sudden, sharp gasp. Both Anakin and Ahsoka swiveled a startled glance in his direction, struck with the instinctive fear that they might have been discovered. But instead, they were greeted with an obviously stunned Obi-Wan. His usually composed had slipped away, his slack-jawed features rapidly draining of color. Unnerved by his reaction, Ahsoka reached over to place a hand against his shoulder. It was then that she noticed the fine trembling in his frame.

"What is it, Master?" she asked, "Are you feeling ill again?"

Obi-Wan lifted a shaking finger and pointed towards the small crowd just beyond them. "Over there, in the center of the group," he indicated in stunned disbelief, "Look at how they are dressed…"

Anakin and Ahsoka followed the trajectory he indicated until their gazes fell simultaneously on the random set of individuals he indicated. They were scattered in among the small crowd, but their clothing was distinctive. Though filthy, threadbare, and horribly out of date, the traditional garb that characterized a Jedi Knight was unmistakable. Anakin and Ahsoka glanced back at Obi-Wan, their eyes widened with understanding. Obi-Wan managed a rough swallow.

"I think I might have an idea where those from Tun's party might have gone after they ran from us," he uttered in a slightly tremulous tone, "They came to this place."

Now it was Ahsoka's turn to gasp. "Do you recognize any of them?" she asked.

"A few, I think. Their appearance is very altered, but yes, I do recognize some of them."

Anakin hummed thoughtfully. "So, your theory was correct," he considered, "Abeloth did draw them here."

"But they were completely out of their minds the last time I saw them," Obi-Wan argued, "They hardly seem so now in spite of these peculiar circumstances."

Ahsoka looked back to the group and studied them closely. Some had paused in their work to straighten and greet the Zabrak as he and his party approached. "I think you're right, Master," she said, "Whatever compelled them to come here in the first place, it doesn't seem like anyone is forcing them to stay."

Anakin nodded in agreement. "The question is…why do they stay?" He didn't wait for a response to that rhetorical question but, instead closed his eyes and took a deep breath, concentrating intently on the exchange that was currently unfolding between the Zabrak and an unknown human male. Though they were still some distance away, Anakin was able to discern their conversation clearly even as they spoke to one another in hushed tones.

"…how much were you able to collect in all?" the Zabrak asked.

The man gestured to a scant three small baskets of withered fruits and vegetables. "This is it, El'daah," he said, "There's nothing else left and there won't be another harvest for two seasons at least."

El'daah's features were grim as he inspected the contents of each basket, but when he straightened his nod was filled with resolve. "This will sustain us. It will do."

"Are you certain? We can forage a bit more."

"No. This will suffice. I don't wish to linger here any longer."

"You mean to return now?"

"We have been away long enough."

"And the strangers. Did you locate them?"

The Zabrak shook his head. "We didn't look. It doesn't matter, does it?"

His companion smiled, a pure, cleansed smile that was filled with inexplicable peace, as if he was fully unaware that he and his companions were on the brink of starvation. "No, my friend. It does not."

"Gather them up," El'daah commanded, "We will leave straight away."

The human male started to gesture towards the group when he froze abruptly. Then, without warning, every sentient present straightened in unison, their movements alert and predatory as they simultaneously rose and turned to face the exact spot where Anakin, Ahsoka and Obi-Wan had hidden themselves.

They ducked down, but not quickly enough. Several dozen pairs of eyes trained on that spot with keen, laser focus. They were too far away for Anakin to clearly discern the incandescent silver sheen of their eyes, but he didn't need to be close. He felt the change, the sudden, deep frigid chill that settled in his bones and heralded Abeloth's presence. He shuddered.

"Locate the intruders," the Zabrak commanded in a voice that Anakin instantly recognized as Abeloth's, "Destroy them, my children."

Ahsoka recognized the incoming danger before Anakin could utter a single word of warning and slowly shifted to her feet as the group of fifty plus began making a united advance. "Um…Skyguy? I'm thinking they know we're here now."

"Yeah, Snips. I'm thinking you're right."


"The Pool of Knowledge."

Gil'les made the pronouncement grandly, as if he expected Luke and Leia to prostrate themselves immediately at the sight of it. Luke huffed a grunt of irritation. When Gil'les had led them into the grotto just off the well-worn path they had been traveling, Luke hadn't been entirely surprised. Despite his demands, he hadn't fully expected that Gil'les and Charan would lead them straight to Abeloth. But that didn't mean he wasn't frustrated by the added detours to their journey or Gil'les and Charan's obvious attempts to corrupt him and his sister. He snagged hold of Leia's sleeve just in case she had an inkling to venture closer and inspect the basin.

"Don't go near it," he warned her in a fierce whisper, "It's just another trick."

"It is no trick!" Charan refuted, filled with righteous affront, "The Pool of Knowledge is the gateway to all wisdom. You need only to bathe in its waters and you will become all-knowing. All-seeing. All-powerful."

Luke sneered at her. "Sure I will. I've had enough of your games! If you won't take us to Abeloth, we'll find our own way."

Gil'les' cajoling whisper tickled against his ears as he started to shoulder past them. "Don't you want to know the way to keep your father from falling again?" Luke stopped in his tracks but did not turn around. He ignored the anxious glance Leia shot him. Gil'les smiled and stepped closer. "That is your greatest fear, is it not? The thing that robs you of sleep and leaves you restless?"

Though his countenance remained stony and recalcitrant, Luke was hard-pressed to deny the charge. Ever since he had become privy to Anakin's dark past, that pervasive fear had tormented him. The potential was there, and this time if his father fell to the dark side, the repercussions would be catastrophic. But beyond the devastation that would be dealt to the galaxy, Luke would lose his father again and it would be permanent. He would lose his family. He wasn't sure he could endure that a second time.

Leia jostled her brother, watching as the uncertainty chased its way across his face. "Don't listen to them!" she hissed, "You said it was a trick, remember?"

"And you said he was going to fall no matter what," Luke hissed back, "What if we can find a way to stop it? I don't want to lose him again, Leia!"

"How is this any different from that fountain?"

Charan moved in closer, her demure smile mirroring Gil'les'. "The Font of Power is dark side energy," she said, "The Pool of Knowledge comes from the light. Both are a manifestation of the Force, and they cannot be bad."

Leia shook her head, glimpsing the deepening conflict in the depths of her brother's troubled eyes. "They're lying to you," she insisted in a fierce whisper.

"I just want to look," he reassured her.

There was something about the pool that beckoned to him. While he had been repelled by the Font of Power from the outset and had recognized its malevolence right away, the Pool of Knowledge sang to him. It was like a beacon, surrounded by four looming stone pillars and it whispered to him sweetly. Come closer. Come closer. He felt drawn in a way that he had no desire to resist. Luke didn't even try.

"You feel like it's calling to you, don't you?" Leia whispered with a knowing look, "That's the same thing that happened to me at the Font of Power! Don't listen to it!"

"It's not the same," Luke argued, "That was the dark side. This isn't like that at all!"

Leia growled his name in warning and grabbed hold of his shoulder when he started to turn back towards the basin, but he shrugged her off. "Stop it! I know it's dangerous! I'll be careful. I won't do anything stupid!"

"You already are," Leia mumbled under her breath.

Luke barely heard her as he made his cautious approach. The small pool glowed with an incandescent light. There was an ornate, serpentine braid that encircled the edge of the entire basin and gleamed like precious metal. Unlike the waters in the fountain, the serene depths of the pool were so translucent that Luke was able to see his own reflection. As he leaned over the edge for a closer look, the face that stared back at him was familiar, but oddly foreign as well.

He appeared as a young man in his late teens or early twenties with cheekbones sharp and angled, his blue eyes bright and restless, his chin strong and dimpled like his father's. Luke started to stretch a tentative hand forward to touch the image when his sister's aged countenance materialized next to his, her achingly beautiful reflection an ethereal echo of his beloved mother's flawless face. Leia leaned in close against him and he could tell from her expression that was seeing the same thing that he was as she peered down into the water's glassy surface.

She whispered, almost in awe, "We look just like Mom."

"And Dad too," he added softly. He twisted a glance over his shoulder at Gil'les. "Is this really us?"

"It is."

"Can this pool show us the future?" Luke asked.

"And the past," Gil'les replied, "The waters will reveal whatever you desire."

That was what he wanted. Luke didn't need to peer off into some nebulous future that could easily change. He didn't want that type of cold fear driving him to action. What he wanted was a glimpse into the past, some indication of where it had all gone wrong. Where had his father taken those first missteps and how he could prevent it from ever happening again.

Luke turned back to the pool and whispered, "Show me his fall."

The waters swirled and darkened as his and Leia's future visages faded away and transformed into a vision of his father struggling against a sliding slope of scalding black sand. He was limbless, a single metal arm the only appendage that remained. He clawed desperately at the shifting sands, straining to move away from the flowing lava river at his back even as his clothing and body ignited in flames. Just beyond him, a devastated Obi-Wan stood as witness, watching in horrified resolve as his former friend and brother burned alive.

The pain was excruciating. Luke could feel it burning away his own nerve endings. Yet, through it all, Anakin's eyes remained a seething, sulfurous yellow, aglow with visceral hatred, the single emotion that made him impervious to the pain…the only thing sustaining him.

Luke didn't even realize he had started to climb into the pool, compelled by something that he couldn't possibly explain, until he suddenly hit the ground with such a violent thump that his neck snapped and recoiled. Had it been possible to feel pain, he would no doubt have suffered a pounding headache in addition to a brief bout of unconsciousness. As it was, he was still a bit disoriented when he found himself flat on the ground and Leia was straddled over him. He frowned at her in confusion.

"What are you doing?"

"You were going to do it, you stupid idiot!" she accused, swatting at his head indignantly while he tried to shield himself from her blows, "You were going to climb into that water even after we agreed it was a bad idea!"

"What…is wrong with…you? Would…you…stop…attacking me?" he cried in between her wild thumps, "Leia…get a grip…!"

"NO! Because you're so stupid! Stupid! Stupid! Stupid! What were you thinking? I told you not to go near it!"

He deftly grabbed hold of her flailing hands and pushed her aside, quick to scramble out from beneath any further attacks. They confronted one another with feral snarls, their breath coming in harried pants as they glared at each other in mutual irritation. Luke scowled at Leia before cradling his head briefly as he tried to recall the exact moment when he had made the decision to bathe in the pool. It hadn't been a conscious choice at all, rather something instinctive that had driven him to action. He stared at Leia in growing confusion.

"I don't remember trying to get in," he choked out softly, "All I know is that he was burning alive, and I wanted to stop it."

"I know. I saw that too," Leia whispered, the angry bluster abruptly draining out of her, "I know you want to save him, Luke."

"I have to," he told her thickly, "I know you hate him, but I don't! I can't. I need him."

"I don't hate him," she told him with surprising gentleness, "At least…not like I thought. I don't trust him, but I'll help you. I'll help you save him, but this isn't the way to do that. I understand that now. It never was."

With that understanding crystalized for them both, Luke and Leia turned to glance back at the pool and watched in mute horror as a single, ghostly white tentacle curled downward and slowly disappeared beneath the surface. Leia turned a harsh glower over at Gil'les and Charan. "What was that?" she demanded, "Is that the thing that's been calling to us this entire time?"

Gil'les shrugged noncommittally. "You still have yet to discern your true purpose here."

"I don't care what you think my true purpose is at all," Leia retorted, her brown eyes narrowed with dark intent, "But I will tell you this…if you try to trick my brother again, it will be the last thing you ever do."

Rather than being cowed by her threat or the menacing sincerity in her tone, Charan seemed pleased. She fairly beamed with glee. "Abeloth was right about you both. You are very strong."

Her companion nodded in agreement to her assessment, obviously pleased as well. "Yes. The time has come. They are ready to cross now."

"Cross what?" both Luke and Leia demanded simultaneously.

Gil'les opaque eyes seemed to gleam with delight when he replied, "The final part of our journey. The Lake of Apparitions."