Nineteen

"Perhaps not this exact moment," Ventress amended with an amused cackle when she noted Luke and Leia's pale, stricken expressions, "I don't make a habit of targeting children. And besides, you make a very poor substitute for your father."

Leia poked her head over Luke's shoulder, her eyes darting in time with Ventress' sinuous movements across the surface of the water as she wound around them again and again. "What do you mean when you say our father put you here?"

Ventress pursed her lips in a sardonic smirk. "What do you think, kid? He killed me, of course." Leia imagined that her face must have drained of all remaining color following that statement because Ventress added with a hearty guffaw, "Aww. No need to look so disillusioned. If it makes you feel better, he did do his noble best to avoid it."

Luke surveyed her with a piercing glare heavily laden with suspicion. "I don't believe you."

"You don't believe he tried to avoid killing me, or you don't believe he killed me at all?" When he refused to answer her, Ventress said, "I have no need to lie to you, boy, or spare your life for that matter!"

"So, why do you?"

"I told you already. My quarrel is with Anakin Skywalker. Not you." She reared back, her hard features brightening as a new thought occurred to her. "You haven't come here to find him, have you? That would be delicious irony."

"My father is not dead!"

Ventress expelled a disappointed sigh. "Pity."

While Luke flailed for a sarcastic rejoinder to that statement, Leia asked, "Why do you hate him so much?"

"Besides the fact he caused my death, you mean?" Ventress sighed. "It's nothing personal, just a manifestation of the same tedious conflict between Jedi and Sith, though all of that seems rather pointless now." She gestured to the luminescent waters behind them. "We all end up in the same place eventually, don't we?"

"You were a Jedi?"

Ventress snorted a laugh over Leia's dubious exclamation. "Once I was a Jedi. Then a Sith. Then nothing. And now I will spend eternity here."

"How did you know our father?" Leia asked.

"In many ways, Anakin Skywalker and I were very alike," Ventress sighed, "I can appreciate that now, in hindsight. We both saw the flaws within the Order, and we chose to sever our ties with them. He chose one path, and I chose another."

"What are you talking about? He was a Sith, like you!"

"Anakin Skywalker? A Sith?" Ventress scoffed, "Oh, he was much too righteous for that path, though not for lack of trying on my master's part. How do I imagine I ended up here?"

Leia struggled to turn over that confusing bit of information in her mind, but Luke was determined to get more concrete answers. "What do you want from us?" he demanded tautly.

"Nothing…except maybe to warn you away from this foolish course you've chosen for yourself."

"Why would you care? You're a Sith and Sith have no goodness! Besides, you clearly hate our father! What could you have to gain by helping us?"

Ventress threw back her head and rumbled an impatient groan. "I could never understand how the Order claimed that the Sith were the ones who dealt in absolutes, and yet they did that better than most," she grunted, "Not all Sith are irredeemable evil and not all Jedi are bastions of goodness. The best of us are a mixture of both. The sooner you learn that lesson, young one, the better."

"I don't need a teacher," Luke retorted stubbornly, "I need a guide, and you killed ours!"

"You truly are your father's son, aren't you?"

Luke lifted his chin proudly. "I am."

"That's not a compliment," Ventress said, "Don't be so quick to think with your lightsaber! Abeloth will destroy you in short order, boy."

"Not if I destroy her first. And I will."

Ventress wasn't especially convinced by Luke's brash claim. In fact, she was fairly confident he was going to get himself and his sister killed, but she made no further attempts to dissuade him either. There was part of her that simply wasn't all that invested in warning an adolescent boy away from his own death but then there was part of her that hoped sincerely that he could pull it off. She wanted to be wrong. Though she would never admit it aloud, she secretly rallied for Luke's success. Abeloth needed to be contained. If anyone had the power to harness that avaricious entity and push her back deeper into her prison, surely the son of the so-called "Chosen One" had a better chance at success than most.

"When you reach land, you will find a honeycomb of caves just beyond the beach," she told Luke and Leia, "Abeloth will be there."

"You're letting us go?"

"I wasn't keeping you in the first place."

"I don't understand. You're…you're not going to try and stop us?" Luke stammered, still caught between surprise and mistrust, "You're going to let us cross?"

"If I wanted you dead, child, you would be."

Luke blinked at her, his skepticism gradually giving way to wary gratitude. Finally, he mumbled grudgingly, "Thank you, Ventress."

"You really want to thank me, kid?" Ventress asked as she sank back beneath the surface, "Don't lose."


"Hello."

Padmé shot upright in bed and scrambled back against her pillows, startled to find a strange little girl propped on the edge of her bed and smiling at her with an open, curious smile. She darted a cautious glance around the interior of the small bedroom, surreptitiously reaching for the blaster she kept under her pillow in the event the child wasn't the only intruder in her room. But Padmé quickly discovered the girl was alone. Alarmed and confused to find an unattended child in her bedroom, Padmé shot a glance up at the open skylight just above her head and then back at the girl.

She couldn't be any older than four. She had an incredibly sweet face and eyes that seemed much too old and wise for someone of her tender years. Her dark hair was parted down the center and twisted into two messy buns, a particular style that Padmé had often chosen for Leia when she was that age. This child's hair was a great deal curlier than Leia's, much closer to her own texture. Padmé imagined wrangling those thick tresses into some semblance of order must have proven a challenge to the girl's mother.

Or, it was possible she had a personal nanny to see to those needs. The girl certainly didn't have the appearance of a typical Tatooinian child. There was none of the usual guarded canniness that Padmé had grown accustomed to, nor the fine coating of sand and dust that seemed to smudge every inch of exposed skin and cling to the coarse fabric of their tunics.

Instead, this child appeared clean, nourished, and well-cared for. Her clothing wasn't terribly expensive, but it was moderately fashionable and immaculately kept. Her flesh was sun-kissed and shining with health. Despite the fact that she was clearly alone, she didn't strike Padmé as an orphan or particularly unloved.

While Padmé was understandably distressed to find an unattended child sitting on her bed, one who had seemingly come from out of nowhere, the girl didn't seem at all frightened given the circumstances. She regarded Padmé with an impish smile and swung her dangling legs as if she didn't have a single care in the world, her blue eyes large, luminous, and serene. She looked at Padmé as if she already knew her and trusted her implicitly. It was that lack of fear that compelled Padmé to relax her grip on her blaster though she did not release it entirely.

"Um…hello there," Padmé greeted slowly in response, "Where did you come from?" She hitched her chin towards the skylight. "Did you steal in through the hatch?"

The little girl smiled and shook her head, her impish grin growing. "I'm always here."

"I don't think so," Padmé refuted with a low, nervous laugh, "I would have noticed you. Are you sure you're not lost?"

"Nope. I'm supposed to be here."

"Did someone tell you that? Did they send you here? Are you from one of the farms nearby?" Padmé was careful to keep her tone moderate but persistent. It didn't seem to matter. The little girl continued to regard her with a mischievous smile, as if she knew a secret that Padmé did not. Padmé swallowed her exasperated sigh. "I'm not sure you're supposed to be in my room," she said gently, "Who are your people, little one?"

Her swinging legs fell still then, her demeanor suddenly grave and too wise eyes solemn once more. "They need you."

"Who needs me?"

"Luke and Leia and Daddy. You have to go now. Hurry!" Padmé froze and stiffened, her eyes flaring wide with disbelief as the little girl swiveled around to face her fully for the first time. It was only then that Padmé recognized that she was staring at a smaller variation of her own face. The little girl blinked at her earnestly. "I need you too, Mama."

Padmé awoke suddenly with a soundless gasp, her fingers still gripped solidly around her blaster. It took several seconds for her to realize that she was alone and even longer to relax. A dream, she thought, flipping onto her back to contemplate the sealed hatch above her head. It had all been a dream, a bizarre one, but a dream, nonetheless. Padmé pushed herself upright in bed, trying to still the fine tremors that had settled into her limbs when the chamber door abruptly unsealed and Beru ducked her head inside.

"Are you alright?" she asked, her forehead knit with a worried frown, "I heard you whimpering in your sleep just now."

"I'm fine. I had a nightmare."

Beru nodded in commiseration and came inside to perch herself on the edge of Padmé's bed, in the exact same spot the little girl had occupied in her dream. Her sister-in-law surveyed her with sorrowful eyes. If the pity she spied in Beru's gaze was any indication, Padmé was sure she made a woeful sight with her tired, puffy eyes and tangled hair. Her suspicions were confirmed when Beru reached over to pat her hand gently.

"Tell me what I can do for you, Padmé," she implored softly.

"Can you bring them home?" Beru tightened her fingers reflexively around Padmé's and shook her head sadly. "Then there's nothing you can do for me," Padmé whispered, "But I appreciate the offer."

"You've been shut away in this room all morning. Perhaps you'll feel better if you took a walk."

"Perhaps…" Padmé considered but without much enthusiasm.

When she didn't budge or even attempt to roll from the bed, Beru added softly, "I spoke to Shmi earlier while you were napping. She'll be here the day after tomorrow."

Padmé would have been heartened by the news of Shmi's impending arrival at any other time, but in this particular instance, it made her groan in consternation. "Oh Beru, why?" she lamented.

"Because you need the support." Beru tipped a meaningful glance towards Padmé's mid-section. "Especially now." Padmé said nothing, but the remaining color that drained from her features was more than answer enough. "I'm right, aren't I?" Beru pressed gently.

"How did you know?" Padmé asked flatly.

"I'm not nearly as clever as you think. You've been pale and sick, and you've been more tired than usual…like you were in the beginning with Leia. I took a wild guess."

"That was some guess," Padmé muttered to herself before she added more directly, "I would appreciate it if you didn't say anything. Anakin and I barely had a chance to discuss it before he left."

"My lips are sealed. But you know how perceptive our mother-in-law can be. Your secret won't remain a secret for long."

"Which is the exact reason I wish you hadn't called her here," Padmé admonished her. She kept her ambivalence about the pregnancy to herself. To voice that aloud to Beru, whom she knew would gladly trade places with her in an instant, seemed especially cruel. Instead, she said, "There's enough to consider without throwing a new pregnancy into the mix."

"I won't apologize for calling her. You need her here too."

Padmé softened at her reply and blew out a grateful sigh. "You and Owen have been very understanding considering the circumstances," she said, "We were only supposed to be here for a brief visit, and now it's turned into a debacle. I'm so sorry to disrupt your lives this way."

"My brother-in-law is a time-traveling former Sith lord who literally just came back from the dead two standard months ago," Beru replied matter-of-factly, "I stopped expecting a trouble-free existence where Anakin was concerned a long time ago."

"How can you not want to wash your hands of us completely?" Padmé asked, half caught between genuine dismay and ironic laughter, "You must wonder if we're worth all this strife."

"That has never crossed my mind a single time," Beru countered with a tender smile, "I love you, Padmé. You're my sister. Anakin is my brother. Luke and Leia are my niece and nephew. There isn't a single thing I wouldn't do for any of you. The trouble will always be worthwhile when it involves family."


"How can you live in these conditions?"

After his brief encounter with the malnourished group back at Centerpoint Station, Obi-Wan was certain that he had prepared himself for the environment that would exist at its smaller sister station. He was wrong. Besides being on the brink of starvation, the people of Sinkhole Station lived in what could only be described as utter squalor. It was clear that attending to life's basic functions had stopped being a priority for them long ago. Had it not been for the Force, it was certain that most, if not all present in the meditation chamber, would be dead by now.

Sheerah had explained that the group called themselves "Mindwalkers." Some had come to the station during Palpatine's tenure as Supreme Chancellor. Others migrated afterwards when Preet rose to power. But all had come seeking refuge and enlightenment. Through extensive training and meditation, they had learned to separate their minds from their physical bodies and travel into a realm known as "beyond shadows." According to Sheerah, beyond shadows was their true abode and everything outside of it was merely an illusion. It was little wonder then that the Mindwalkers had forsaken everything to spend every moment they could there.

When Obi-Wan had asked Sheerah about food and sleep and basic companionship, Sheerah had replied, "The Force is all we need," as if that were the most obvious answer in the galaxy. But it was only when they entered the meditation chamber itself and Obi-Wan was presented with row after row of wasted, ragged individuals blindly transfixed that he could fully appreciate how dangerous their delusion had become. They were literally killing themselves to achieve an ideal that was most likely a grievous lie. That realization saddened Obi-Wan greatly.

Their guide eyed him plaintively, able to discern Obi-Wan's troubling thoughts without a word. "You pity us," Sheerah deduced softly, "but I pity you…because you live a lie. You cannot see the truth." He looked beyond Obi-Wan's shoulder to Anakin, whose horrified expression mirrored his former master's. "And you deny it."

"Are Luke and Leia here among these people?" Anakin asked.

Sheerah nodded. "I will take you to them."

As they burrowed their way deeper into the sea of bodies pressed inside of the chamber, Anakin scanned the plethora of emaciated faces for his children. It did not take him long to spot them. Luke and Leia were a stark and incongruent sight in comparison to the others. Albeit a little dirty and unkempt, his children were still the picture of health and vitality. He was already making his way over to them before he had even finished mumbling his discovery to Obi-Wan and Ahsoka.

They were seated next to one another, their pupilless eyes fixed ahead. Luke's hand was folded tightly over his sister's while Leia's were pressed together in her lap. Anakin stared at their clasped hands for a long time before lifting his gaze to inspect them closely, greedily drinking in the sight of them.

The children were flanked by an unknown Duro male and Twi'lek female. Given their proximity, Anakin wondered if the two might have taught Luke and Leia the technique they needed to cross over. The prospect alarmed Anakin because it was obvious that both the Duro and the Twi'lek were dead.

Anakin tried not to panic wildly over that discovery, especially when Sheerah announced almost proudly, "Gil'les and Charan have completed their journey. They have become one with the Force and our queen."

"And Luke and Leia," Anakin pressed him anxiously.

"Their journey continues."

"Take us there," he urged.

"This process requires deep meditation," Sheerah warned, "You must separate your mind fully from your physical being, the deception that tethers you to this false world."

Ahsoka scooted closer to Anakin and mumbled in aside, "Can't we just take the children and get out of here? These people are beyond our help."

Sheerah favored her with a grotesque smile. "You may remove their physical bodies from here if you wish," he invited, "I will not stop you."

Anakin shot him a daggered glance before glancing back at Ahsoka. "Taking them out of here won't fix anything, Snips," he told her, "We have to go after them. I don't think Luke and Leia will come back on their own."

Obi-Wan glanced around at the starving bodies pressed all around them. "At least, not until they are forced to do so," he muttered under his breath.

Sheerah stooped to shove Gil'les and Charan's inert corpses aside as if they were little more than pieces of furniture. He went about his task matter-of-factly, not sparing a single second to acknowledge either death. After Duro and Twi'lek had been tucked out of the way and empty space had been obtained for Anakin, Obi-Wan and Ahsoka, Sheerah straightened and regarded them expectantly, as if he hadn't just spent the last few minutes repositioning two dead people.

"Now then," he said, clasping his hands together in anticipation, "Shall we begin?"

The chanting was indisputably a perversion of the Jedi code. Obi-Wan was acutely aware of that fact, which made it difficult for him to fully commit himself at first. While he had been taught to ascend beyond the physical environment in order to achieve true peace and enlightenment, what the Mindwalkers had achieved at Sinkhole Station was anything but that. The Force was meant to be a rejuvenating and sustaining power and these people were obviously being drained of their vitality. Obi-Want couldn't buy into to that reality because there wasn't a single part of him that believed Sheerah and the others had found the truth. His inability to buy in kept him bound in place.

While he could feel Ahsoka and Anakin beginning to disengage, he remained stuck in place, acutely aware of the silence and fetid smells that surrounded him. He might have found the irony rather amusing under different circumstances, that Anakin should have an easier time achieving enlightenment than he did, but he was too worried about Luke and Leia to find anything remotely funny. Instead, he was frustrated with himself and cognizant of the fact his failure would ultimately slow Anakin down.

Obi-Wan was growing progressively discouraged when it finally occurred to him why he couldn't cross over. The entire time, he had been looking at the situation from his own perspective, focused only on how he felt and how he would react. He needed to see the journey from Sheerah's perspective, to see as he did, to imagine what had motivated the Rodian to forsake the physical world altogether for the hope of something better.

When he focused on those emotions, Obi-Wan was finally able to disengage from his body. He floated effortlessly towards the light over eons of time, watching as his, Ahsoka and Anakin's physical forms grew progressively distant below him. And when he emerged on the other side, in a thick, green forest filled with fragrant flowers, Anakin, Ahsoka and Sheerah were already there waiting for him. Obi-Wan barely acknowledged them as he started to drink in the environment. He turned slowly, greedily perusing the indescribable paradise with hitching breaths of disbelief and wonder. When he finally pivoted to face the group again, he discovered Anakin regarding him with a humorless smirk.

"Yes, we're here too. So nice of you to finally join us, Obi-Wan."

"This place is astonishing," he breathed, "I've never seen anything like it."

Anakin grunted. "It's alright."

Obi-Wan ran his fingers along the bladed leaf of a nearby plant, visibly enthralled. "How long have you been waiting for me?"

Ahsoka frowned at the question. It had felt like an eternity and yet she was sure that only a few minutes had elapsed since their arrival. But that theory hardly made sense either because she and Anakin had thoroughly explored the surrounding area in the time they had been waiting for him. She glanced over at Sheerah for confirmation, hoping that he might be able to make sense of the inconsistency, but he only said, "Time does not exist here."

"Great. That's very helpful. Thanks."

Obi-Wan's eyes widened in disbelief as he took in the Rodian's vibrant, youthful appearance, noting for the first time how healthy he appeared. "My word, you've been restored!" he gasped in amazement, "Is that what this place does?"

"No, he hasn't been restored at all," Anakin interjected before Sheerah could spout some nonsensical spiritual babble, "It's an illusion. You're seeing what Abeloth wants you to see here. I see the truth."

"And what do you see, Anakin?" Obi-Wan asked, half appalled, half uncertain.

"Death." Anakin didn't elaborate on that declaration further. Instead, he flicked Sheerah with an impassive glance and said, "Let's be on our way then."

Sheerah led them to a worn path that cut through the dense jungle, and they followed him. The journey was made in complete silence. While Obi-Wan and Ahsoka's lack of conversation was due to the speechless awe evoked by their perfect surroundings, Anakin was filled with dread by the decay and death that permeated the place. He could see exactly what Obi-Wan and Ahsoka did, knew very well the beauty and tranquility that had compelled so many to stay to the detriment of their own well-being. But he could also see what lay beyond that thin façade. He could sense the sinister darkness that typified Abeloth's presence, the cold emptiness that emanated from everything and stripped away the environment's incandescent glimmer.

She had fashioned her prison into the perfect trap for the unsuspecting. It was all a beautiful lie, designed to draw the desperate and hopeful to her in droves. Many had bought into the elaborate fantasy she had created here, including Obi-Wan and Ahsoka. No wonder the Mindwalkers were so willing to forsake their own lives to remain in this place. Beyond shadows was a welcome alternative to the war, destruction, oppression, and strife that characterized the outside world. How could they not be convinced that they had achieved real enlightenment here? Anakin wondered grimly if Luke and Leia had become convinced of the same thing.

It was already happening to Obi-Wan and Ahsoka. The longer they were in this place, the more their own perceptions would begin to shift. Eventually, they would become just like Sheerah, filled with conviction that beyond shadows was all there was and everything outside of it was nothing more than a lie. The necessity of keeping Abeloth imprisoned was more critical than Anakin ever realized. The danger she presented to the galaxy could not be underestimated. For the first time since returning from Mortis, Anakin was able to look past his own selfish longing to appreciate the gravity of responsibility that had been entrusted to him. He knew that he shouldn't be so quick to shirk it.

He was contemplating what that would mean, for himself and for his family, when they reached the fountain. Anakin knew exactly what it was even before Sheerah provided the answer. The Font of Power was somehow exactly what he expected. After all, this fountain had been the birthplace of the Son…the place where he had become. It was teeming with dark force energy.

Sheerah didn't seem to notice that fact, or perhaps he didn't care at all, but Obi-Wan and Ahsoka's steps faltered a bit as they were finally shaken from their stupors and instinctively repelled by the dark Force energy. Ahsoka cautiously circled the perimeter of the fountain, as if trying to decide what to make of it. Obi-Wan moved to stand beside Anakin, his usually impassive features beset with a mild grimace.

"That fountain isn't quite what I expected in a place like this," he said.

"You might feel differently if you could see what I see," Anakin replied.

Sheerah nodded towards the dark, cascading water. "Would you care to have a sip?" he invited.

Obi-Wan made an odd choking sound. "I'll pass on that, thank you very much."

"The Font can grant you more power than you could ever dream," Sheerah cajoled, "The power to save your Order…to save your friends."

Ahsoka peered at him suspiciously. "Why would he need such power if nothing outside of this place is real? The Order is an illusion. Remember?"

"What a very clever Togruta you are," Sheerah commended.

"Enough of your games!" Anakin barked, "Why did you bring us here?"

He had barely finished voicing the words when the waters of the fountain suddenly began to swirl and congeal as a lone, dark figure began to take shape and slowly rise up from its sulfurous depths. Abeloth's terrifying features were revealed as the water peeled away, her gaping mouth twisted in a macabre smile. She floated above the surface like a diaphanous ghoul, her curling tenacles stretching forward greedily but unable to extend any further beyond the stony rim of the fountain.

Obi-Wan and Ahsoka scurried back at the sight of her, but Sheerah dropped reverently to his knees. They both noted his actions with incredulous grimaces, however, Obi-Wan went so far as to blurt out rather dubiously, "This is your 'queen of the stars'?"

Sheerah's expression was positively besotted when he replied, "Magnificent, isn't she?"

Ahsoka cringed and took several more cautious steps backwards. "Yep. No doubt about it. You're psychotic."

Anakin paid no heed to their exchange, however. His attention was directed solely on the creature hovering like a ghost above the water. He approached the fountain in measured steps, despite Ahsoka and Obi-Wan's strident protests behind him, careful not to move within Abeloth's reach. "Where are my children?"

"Have you no proper greeting for your sister?"

He ignored the stunned expulsions of breath that sounded behind him. "You're being very presumptuous. We may have come from the same place, but we are hardly family!"

"You deny me," she whispered, "And you deny yourself. How very weak of you."

"Give me back my children, and I will leave you."

The gaping maw of her mouth stretched wider. "Leave me imprisoned? What gift would that be?"

Anakin gestured to the dagger, which he had taken into his possession after the attack at Centerpoint Station. "The gift is that I will leave you living," he clarified coldly, "Where are Luke and Leia?"

"I mean them no harm. I seek only to liberate them."

Anakin's lips twisted in a mocking smile. "Liberate them? From what exactly?"

"From death," she said, "You will not do it, and so I must."

"I don't have the patience for your riddles!"

"Then I shall show you."

She conjured an image that was either a glimpse into his distant future or an illusion designed to unnerve him and fill him with doubts. He saw himself, as young and vital as he was presently, kneeling at Padmé's bedside, her frail, withered hand gathered between his strong ones. Her lustrous dark curls had grown sparse and white, her beautiful face weathered and slackened by advanced age but, to Anakin, she remained as breathtakingly lovely as ever. She regarded him with rheumy eyes brimming with love as she breathed her last breath.

All around him was his family, their family…adult children, grandchildren, greatgrandchildren, gathered together to say their final grieving goodbyes to their matriarch. Time had rolled on for them all, but he remained ageless. He studied the lined faces of his son and daughter and the threads of gray that peppered their hair and Anakin knew the next deathbed that he would kneel beside would be theirs. And so on and so on, until he eventually watched everyone he had ever loved, his entire family be born, grow up, grow old and then finally die. He would bury them all. Anakin forced himself to look away from that dismal future, and Abeloth cackled over the victory.

"Is that the existence you want for yourself?" she cajoled softly, "For them?"

"What I want doesn't matter."

"What you want is all that matters. It doesn't have to be that way at all…" She dragged a single tenacle through the dark water churning beneath her. "…if you drink."

"You mean like you did?"

"I see your dilemma," she said, "You want to drink. I can feel it…but you fear what you might become."

"I will not repeat your mistakes or my own," Anakin replied.

"It is not the same. I was mortal," she reasoned, "To drink of this fountain was forbidden for me, and that act is what transformed me into this. You will not suffer this same fate, my brother. You will gain infinite power instead, the ability to grant immortality to any you desire."

"I don't believe you."

"I never lie, Chosen One. I speak the truth always."

"You twist the truth," Anakin retorted tautly, "Just as you did with Leia."

"I revealed your real face, and I did you a kindness. She cannot truly love what she does not know. Now she can see you for who you are. Drink and you will become her salvation."

"You're as insane as the people who worship you."

"Only one has achieved the power to grant immortality. He gave it to you. Why should you not give it to others? You need not say goodbye to your wife or your children or your children's children. You can keep them with you always. The waters will not transform you as I was transformed because you are already immortal."

"You weren't corrupted because you were mortal, Abeloth," Anakin refuted softly, "You were corrupted because you were selfish! You lost sight of your purpose!"

"My purpose?" Abeloth scoffed.

"To be shaped by the Force," Anakin said, "To be guided by it and yield to it, not to control it. That is not for you. Or me for that matter."

"And you've learned that lesson, have you?"

"I'm trying to learn it," he replied brusquely, "I want to learn it at least. And I want Luke and Leia with me. Tell me where to find my children!"

"Foolish boy, you do not deserve them!" Abeloth sneered, sinking back into the water, "They are my children now!"

Anakin made a desperate dive at her before she could vanish beneath the depths but, by the time he reached the edge of the fountain, she was already gone.