Mace indulged in his first caff of the day, adding frothed milk and a dash of caramel syrup, something only those closest to him knew he liked. He sipped, enjoying the tart sweetness on his tongue, and enjoyed the moment, the morning sun warm on his cheeks as he looked out upon the temple gardens, knights meditating as younglings played. In a few moments, he would return to his office and face the trials of the day, but for now… peace.
Then a great surge of darkness welled up within the Force. Oily slick, it screeched and writhed, pressing up against his shields, tendrils clawing at his mind. Mace clutched his head as his fellow Jedi cried out as one. The cloud of darkness that had always mired Coruscant thundered and roiled, a looming shadow that threatened to engulf them all.
A burst of pure light purged it. Mace groaned at the white-hot pain as it scorched his mind like the burning centre of a star.
Kark!
A hundred, a thousand, a million shatterpoints flashed before his eyes and became supernova, blinding him as the Force echoed with steely determination and all encompassing love.
The cloud of darkness that had always obscured their vision and left even the Council struggling to sense the will of the Force still remained, but it was as if the light of the Jedi Temple was shining through, like how the sun burned away a morning mist.
Mace took stock of himself, rising from where he'd collapsed. His mind felt strained and his body bruised. His cup of caff had shattered on the stone floor of the patio on which he'd been sitting. He frowned at the spill. Around him, Jedi rose to their feet on unsteady legs, and children cried as they tried to make sense of their turmoil.
What in the kriffing hells had happened?
A few seconds later, Mace's com chirped, an incoming call from the Mon Mothma. He answered it warily.
"Mace… you need to get to the Senate Building." Her usually implacable calm was gone and her voice trembled. Mace didn't think he'd ever heard Mon so rattled, not in the fourteen years he'd known her.
"Right now?" he asked, although he knew her answer. Her call could be no coincidence.
"Yes," she snapped. "Mace… a Jedi has just assassinated Chancellor Palpatine."
Ever since coming to the temple, Anakin hadn't had much need of the whisper walking skills his mum had taught him. On Tatooinne, he'd been the best at it, and sometimes if he thought hard enough and stood still enough, masters would walk right by him as if they couldn't see him, even though he was right there, holding morsels of scavenged food.
Anakin used those skills to sneak past the Jedi guarding the entrance to the cells. After all, it wasn't his fault if they didn't notice him! He'd felt it, like every other Jedi, when the Force had pulsed first with grasping darkness and cleansed with soothing light. Then he'd been hiding under the benches outside the Council Chamber and listened as two senior Padawans gossiped that they'd arrested Master Obi-Wan for murder. No way was that right!
Well, Master Obi-Wan could trust in Anakin. He'd freed Anakin when Anakin had been in chains. Now it was his turn to free his Master.
A plasma gate guarded the door to Obi-Wan's cell. Inside, his master sat on the floor cross-legged, eyes closed, like he did when he was meditating.
"Hello Anakin," Obi-Wan said, his mouth curling into a wry smile, eyes still closed. "I suppose I should have expected you."
Staring at Obi-Wan in his cell, Anakin sniffled, then wiped angrily at his tears. He was sure that the Council were wrong, that they were all wrong—whatever Obi-Wan had done, he didn't deserve to be locked up.
"I'm going to get you out, Master Obi," he said.
At that, Obi-Wan did open his eyes, blue like the sky on a peaceful Tatooine day. He stood, walking to the edge of his cell, and clasped his hands together, folded into his robes.
"I'd prefer if you didn't, Anakin. I am in here for a reason, afterall."
"But they're wrong!" Anakin clenched his hands into fists. "They're wrong, I know they're wrong!"
Sadness radiated across their bond, although Obi-Wan still smiled. "They're not, I'm afraid, my young Padawan. I did kill the Chancellor. I am sorry that doing so upset you."
Anakin stared at him. His master gazed back. He looked the same as he always did. Serene. At peace. He didn't look like an evil assassin, or like the Sith that had tried to kill them before, or even like the cruel masters back home who had enjoyed the pain inflicted on their slaves.
It was hard to listen to the Force, but Anakin had been trying his best these last few days. He'd only been Master Obi-Wan's Padawan for a year and he knew he wasn't as good as the other Padawans, but he worked at it every morning. He reached out to the Force now and tried to hear what it was telling him. It caressed him, like it always did, offering him power, offering him strength, and whispered satisfaction in his ears. Above all, it whispered of freedom and the breaking of chains. It did not guide him to break Obi-Wan out, although he was tempted to anyway.
Even if he had killed Chancellor Palpatine. Anakin swallowed. He'd liked the Chancellor. They'd met and he'd given Anakin biscuits and made him feel as if he could do no wrong, so different to how the Jedi grimaced when they saw him or teased him for being stupid.
But Obi-Wan was his master. He'd trained Anakin when no one else would. He'd held Anakin when he'd cried about missing his mom and Qui-Gon and taught him loads of wicked stuff.
"Then it was the right thing to do, Master," Anakin decided. He sensed conflicting emotions from Obi-Wan at that declaration, but Anakin set them aside. "Are you sure you don't want me to break you out? I bet I can do it!"
Obi-Wan chuckled. "Ever impulsive, Anakin," he said, fondly. "Do not worry. I'm confident that in the long run I'm more valuable to the Council outside of this cell, than inside it. For now, will you meditate with me?"
Anakin pulled a face but he sat down to mirror Obi-Wan, facing him through the plasma bars. If that was what Obi-Wan needed from him now, then he would do it. But if the Masters didn't free Obi-Wan soon, then Anakin would sneak back down again and do it himself.
The Coruscant Guards had finally delivered the holo from Kenobi's incursion into the Senate Building and subsequent murder of Sheev Palpatine. Acquiring the recordings had taken far too long, especially as Kenboi had refused to speak with the Council until they had witnessed his crimes for themselves. Yet another sign of the decaying relationship between the Jedi and the Senate, their lack of respect for the Jedi Order implicit in their reluctance to allow them to investigate.
Yan reclined in his chair, accompanied by the gathered High Council, as the projection began to play, and wondered quietly to himself if this wasn't the prompting he needed to leave the Order.
Kenobi moved with purpose through the Senate, greeting those he encountered with politeness that Qui-Gon had certainly not imparted on his Padawan. The two guards outside the Chancellor's office door allowed him through with nary a question when Kenobi informed them he'd been sent as a representative of the Jedi to meet with the new Chancellor, a glaring flaw in the security that perhaps explained why the Coruscant Guards had been reluctant to part with this footage.
Palpatine stood as Kenobi entered, not bothering to hide his surprise. According to his aide, he'd not had a meeting planned with anyone that morning, and instead had planned to review the previous Chancellor's files.
Kenobi raised a hand and the bookshelves that framed the doorway slammed together, moved by judicial use of the Force, obscuring the single exit. Curiously, Palpatine did not flinch back or attempt to call for help.
"Hello there," Kenobi said, withdrawing his lightsaber and settling into the defensive opening stance of Soresu. Yan's brows raised. Kenobi had obviously come with the intention to kill, and yet… Soresu was a curious choice for a Padawan who had been trained under Qui-Gon in Ataru, and even more curious a choice for an assassin.
"Surely the Council did not send you alone?" Palpatine asked, stepping back from his desk. He chuckled. Yan exchanged a frown with Yoda, his old master watching with drooped ears.
Kenobi inclined his head. "The Council did not send me, Darth Sidious."
The holo was stopped by some fool, even as the Force resonated with the shock of each Council member at Kenobi's claim.
"Did he say 'Darth Sidious'?" Yareal whispered.
Yan glared at Yareal, who flinched back. "Yes. Now play the rest of it!"
The holo continued, replaying the last five seconds.
Kenobi spoke calmly, with confidence. "The Council did not send me, Darth Sidious."
Palpatine sneered at Kenobi. "Then you are a fool, to have come here alone. An arrogant fool."
"Perhaps," Kenobi acknowledged. "Sheev Palpatine, you are under arrest for treason against the Republic, conspiracy to commit murder, and for the murder of Darth Plageius in your ascention to Sith Master… your crimes are myriad. Will you come quietly?"
The Council chamber was quiet but for their ragged breathing as they watched and waited in anticipation. Yan forced himself to remember that this was just a holo, a recording of an event that had happened hours ago. Kenobi had survived and Palpatine was dead.
It seemed, somehow, Kenobi was a Sith-Slayer twice over.
Palptaine hissed, a cruel sneer marring his once kindly visage. "I think not. Your death will be the first step toward allocating me the powers needed to rule the Senate. An assassin, slaying a Jedi with their own blade in the Chancellor's office… whatever will the public think?"
Kenobi smiled. Yan shivered. It was an unusual look for one as young as Kenobi, filled with tired, steadfast resolution.
"It will not matter, for you will be dead," he said.
Quicker than Yan could follow, Palpatine launched himself at Kenobi, a lightsaber appearing in his hand from the depths of his robes. Kenobi parried and they fought…
Ten minutes passed, then twenty, as the two men battled. Yan had never seen such mastery of Soresu and it was easy to see that Palpatine was growing in anger and frustration, using it to fuel his powers as he alternated dark lightning with powerful swings of his saber. There was no questioning that he was the Sith Lord they had theorised existed.
Yet Kenobi did not flinch or falter, his defence effortless, his face serene. Even through the unfeeling medium of the holo, Yan could tell that he was a beacon of light within the Force. Finally, Palpatine overreached, and Kenobi, quick as a snake, skewered Palpatine through the heart.
"No!" Palpatine shrieked, his face contorting with dark malice. The room shook, the windows shattering, light leached from the darkness he radiated. Yet Kenobi extended his hand and Yan realised that young, newly knighted Kenobi had been the source of the light that had purged the darkness from the Force and radiated love. He stepped forward, and murmured something to Palpatine that the holo did not catch. Then with a flick of his saber, he decapitated Palpatine, ending the darkness.
For a long moment, Kenobi looked at the dead man's body, bowing his head. Then he set aside both of their lightsabers on the desk. He knelt, facing away from the door, and clasped his hands behind his head, and with a flick of his fingers, the bookshelves blocking the door moved back. The Coruscant Guard rushed in and froze at the sight before them, then in a flurry of movement took Kenobi into custody… and there, Yoda paused the holo.
Silence fell upon the Council chambers. Yan kept a tight grip on his own emotions, for he could feel nothing but overwhelming pride, which perhaps was not the Jedi way. He did not know Kenobi well, but he was his Grand Padawan. Perhaps it was time to reach out.
As the masters began to squabble over the return and subsequent fall of the Sith, the insight Kenobi had not shared, and whether he should have, and what fate for him lay ahead, Yan smiled.
It did not matter how Kenobi had gained his knowledge of the Sith, nor his mastery of Soresu. Uncovering this truth must have been a burden, one he had shouldered alone, yet he had not faltered, but instead forged on with strength. That they could sit here and quibble over what ought to be done with Kenobi was only possible thanks to the man himself. Even now, the ever present darkness that had mired Coruscant Yan's entire life was fading. The galaxy had been done a great service.
Resolved to speak with Kenobi, the one man who had the answers to the questions that the Council posed, Yan stood and exited the room, leaving them to their disagreements, ignoring those who called after him. He would ensure that Kenobi did not face any negative repercussions incited by fear-mongering and foolishness. He had been brave, forthright, and steadfast. He embodied everything their Order strived to be.
Yan was proud to be a Jedi.