The Council didn't make their decision the next day, or the day after that. It seemed it required a lot of talking to come to a decision, one that shouldn't be controversial, yet it was. So, Obi-Wan decided to be productive while the days ticked by.
After the duel with Maul, he realized the lack of defensive capabilities in his current form, Ataru, was a weakness. It was one of the reasons that Qui-Gon Jinn nearly died on Naboo. Reviewing all the available lightsaber forms, he had chosen Form III, Soresu for its defense.
It was vastly different from the aggressive, athletic and graceful attacks of Ataru, and would take some time to get used to. But Obi-Wan thought he was doing a good job of learning it. Taking the starting form of Soresu, he raised the saber over his shoulder, blade angled forward, and two fingers of his other hand pointed in a challenge at his opponent, Plo Koon.
Out of the corner of his eye, he watched the large crowd of Initiates and Padawans gathered around them in a ring, excitedly watching the Jedi Master and the legendary Sithkiller sparring each other. Obi-Wan sighed, and decided he really disliked all this attention. The Force whispered a warning, and he lifted his saber in time to block a strike from the Kel Dor.
"Soresu is an odd choice for you, Kenobi," Plo Koon remarked, swinging his lightsaber down in a large arc, easily parried by the young Knight.
"Why's that?" He blocked another strike, pushing against the blade and leaning back to avoid another attack aimed at his chest.
"You're impressive offensive defeated the Sith Lord," the Jedi Master responded, swiping low at his feet to which he jumped over and awkwardly angled his wrist to block an incoming hit.
"Yes, well, I have become… enlightened." He grunted when three vicious strikes pounded against his defense, forcing him back.
"Oh?"
"The lack of defensive capabilities for Ataru are problematic." He hissed when Plo Koon penetrated his defense, the training blade biting into his skin uncomfortably as the Master used cho sun to send his lightsaber flying from his grasp and clattering to the ground. "It was one of the reasons Qui-Gon nearly died."
His jaw tightened, the darkness rising to meet the bubbling anger that rose up, and he quickly stuffed it down, worried that whatever voodoo was being conjured to hide the Dark Side would wear off. It was a wonder that the Jedi couldn't sense it. He looked up to see a hand offered and he took it, hauled to his feet as the Kel Dor reignited his saber. "I believe it suits you."
Obi-Wan's ears burned again, and he rubbed the back of his neck, smiling softly. "Thank you, I think."
Plo Koon was probably smiling behind his mask. "Shall we?"
The Knight sighed and called his lightsaber with the Force, igniting the blue blade. For the fifth time today, he fell into the starting position of Form III. He pretended not to hear the whispers of the ever-growing crowd of Jedi and focused on his opponent.
Immediately, the Jedi Master attacked him in a ferocious attack angled downward. Blue sparked against blue, and Obi-Wan pushed back against his attacker, twirling around to meet the tip of Plo Koon's blade, barely blocked by the Knight.
Two slashes followed, both easily evaded as he gracefully weaved beneath the attacks and kicked his opponent in the shin, using the brief distraction to Force push the Master back a couple feet. More attacks quickly followed, and he blocked high, low and gracefully moved to the side to avoid one aimed at his neck.
Obi-Wan attacked his opponent, bringing his saber slamming down on Plo Koon's with a surprising amount of force. The Master leapt back and brought his blade up to bear, blocking another strike from Kenobi and horizontally swept at him in a blade of light.
He jumped over the sweeping attack, only to find a foot in his chest, sending him tumbling to the ground, his lightsaber skidding across the floor. Kenobi groaned, rolling onto his back. Fury boiled under his skin for being defeated yet again.
Slowly, he rose to his feet and ignited his weapon, circling Plo Koon like a predator. Anger and humiliation burned, fueled by the inferno of darkness resting within him. Without much thought, he attacked the Kel Dor, the Force guiding his movements and whispering warnings.
The Master blocked his strike and used the Force to push him away. He skidded to a halt, barely ducking away when the master thrusted forward with his lightsaber. Obi-Wan kicked out with his leg, catching him in the gut. He continued his advance with a sweeping arc, which the Kel Dor easily evaded.
Kenobi flipped over Plo Koon, swiping at the Jedi Master, who pivoted on his heel last second to block the attack. He spun his lightsaber, and ran forward, batting against the Master's defenses with an unnatural strength.
The darkness hummed within him with each aggressive strike made, as he forced the Kel Dor back. Plo Koon leaned back to avoid a quick strike at his chest, then a one-handed cartwheel, blocking another attack as he did so.
Obi-Wan swiped at the head of the Master multiple times, each time Plo Koon ducking. He hit down on his opponent, forcing him to one knee until he was kicked in gut, sending him staggering back. He whirled around to hit the Kel Dor from the side, and the strike was blocked. The Knight went the other way, and still the strike was blocked.
Kenobi called on the Force and with a surprising amount of speed, whirled around and kicked the Kel Dor in the stomach, throwing his lightsaber in the air and catching it in a reverse grip. Turning on his heel, he slashed down on the Master's chest.
Plo Koon grunted and dropped his lightsaber in favor of clutching the welt that was forming visibly beneath his cut robes. The crowd around them cheered at his victory, clapping and yelling. None of the words registered in his mind as blood rushed to his ears, drowning out all of them.
The Dark Side thrummed in his veins, longing for more. He closed his eyes and tried to push away the beast inside of him, finding that it resisted with an angry snarl. Darkness rose, fighting his control and Obi-Wan panicked briefly, until he remembered they couldn't sense it.
Kenobi forced the darkness down with some difficulty and opened his eyes, pointing his lightsaber at the opponent. "You're dead."
Plo Koon chuckled. "It seems you still favor Ataru over Soresu. It takes practice and patience to learn that form, young one. And impatient you are. You let your frustration get the better of you, and that is why you fell back to your old form."
The Knight ducked his head, his face burning at the reprimand. "I-sorry, Master. It's just…" He sighed, deactivating his lightsaber and clipping it to his belt. "I have a lot on my mind."
The young man picked up the Kel Dor's lightsaber and handed it to him, looking at the nasty welt. Using the Force to call one of the towels used for after spars to him, he placed the damp cloth in the Master's hand.
"I must mediate." His voice was quiet, and he smiled softly at Plo Koon. He pushed past the crowd that called out his name and quickly strode down the halls until he came to the elevator. The Knight pressed the button and stepped inside once the elevator came down. When he noticed someone running after him, he repeatedly tapped the button that would take him to the tenth floor.
Force, he didn't want to talk to anybody or have another fan fawning over him.
The woman held out a hand as she drew closer. "Wait! Hold the door for me!"
"Sorry! What was that?" He held a hand to his ear. "I can't hear you."
"Hol—"
The elevator door sealed shut, leaving him in sweet, blissful silence. The past few days had been filled with nosy younglings, eager fans and gossip that centered around him. Even in his quarters in the Billet, he wasn't safe.
He couldn't wait for the Council to approve the mission to Dathomir, if they did. It would be a chance to get away from the Temple.
The elevator dinged softly, and he peeked out, checking to see if there was anybody. Thankfully, there wasn't a soul to be seen. Kenobi took long strides and eventually came to a door, and sighed, seeing the pile of letters by his door. More requests to be his student.
Kenobi used the Force to bring the stack of letters to his hand and laid his hand on the console, watching it slide open with a soft hiss.
It was a room temporarily assigned to him, containing a bed, a work bench near the closet (disguised by the slide-away panels on the wall) and a table with chairs to eat, along with a kitchenette. He sighed and entered the room, tossing the pile of letters on the table and sitting cross-legged on the carpet in the middle of the space.
One could never have enough space for mediation.
Obi-Wan opened his eyes to his mind's sanctuary, something he hadn't done in a few days. To his surprise, his inner sanctum was different. Before, it had been a landscape of Stewjon, a place he could barely remember but cherished all the same. Rolling green grass had stretched as far as the eye could see and only the twin moons of his home world had broken up a perfectly clear sky.
In the center of the greenery, there had been a temple, not unlike the one on Coruscant, but simpler. The plaza formed the Jedi symbol and in the middle of it was a tree similar to the Great Tree in the Jedi Temple. His master loved that tree.
His chest tightened and he studied the new surroundings.
Deceptively calm black waters stretched endlessly in every direction, so still they seemed frozen. There was no sky, no horizon, just an endless abyss illuminated by a sourceless light that cast no shadow. At the center of this sanctum stood a gnarled, ancient tree, perched upon a small island of pale grass.
Its twisted branches reached upward, clawing at the void, while its withered leaves fell one by one, spiraling lazily into the dark waters below, creating ripples that quickly dissipated. Obi-Wan stared at the tree, realizing that it looked like a withered reflection of the Great Tree.
His eyes were drawn to the soft red glow, pulsing as it drifted toward him away from the tree. As it drew closer, he could hear agonized screams of loneliness and betrayal and fury, wailing its twisted melody. When it came to a stop in front of him, he watched in fascination as the open casing of the shattered lightsaber came apart into many pieces, dropping in the water below.
The darkness within him stirred violently, reaching out hungrily toward the kyber crystal, drawn to its presence. His hand moved of its own accord, and it closed around the corrupted thing. Screams and whispers of a harsh guttural language brushed against Obi-Wan's consciousness, coiling around his thoughts and pulling at the corners of his mind.
The Darkness was always there, keeping him company. It hissed and snarled at the sight of the two boys, who been nothing but cruel to him, in his place at the Selection. He reached out with his invisible hand and imagined strangling them.
Sick pleasure ran through him as wide eyes bulged out of their sockets, and whimpers and gasps filled the suddenly silent air. Pleased yellow eyes from underneath a hood watched him with amusement, pale lips quirking into a cruel smile.
It was an unpleasant experience.
A chilling cackle echoed around him as lightning arched through his body, muscles locked up and he spasmed, screaming in agony as the electricity coursed through him. All while cruel yellow eyes stared down at him.
He hissed in pain, the crystal bleeding onto his hands. It felt like his insides were on fire, painful and hot. His skin felt like it would melt off, and the water below did nothing to ease the pain as he fell on his knees.
The kyber crystals were in pain, screaming in agony as they tried to resist the darkness flooding their cores. They were calling out to their owners, former Jedi, but to no avail. They pleaded for mercy, but there was none among the Sith. The crystals started to bleed, the blue and green giving way to red as darkness consumed them.
Obi-Wan struggled to let go of the crystal as agony consumed everything. He tried to peel his hands away from it, yet his fingers refused to obey, tightly clasped around the corrupted thing. Red liquid seeped out from his hand.
"You have done well, my apprentice."
Pride welled up within him as he stared at the smoking corpse of the female Jedi, his gaze drifting to the distance where the other bodies lay. The flickering blue hologram of his Master watched him carefully as his gaze returned to the girl before it went back to those glimmering yellow eyes.
"Rise, Darth Maul, your training is complete."
Kenobi went limp and collapsed into the water, utterly exhausted. The crystal slipped out of his hands, floating on the surface of the dark water. The Dark Side wrapped around him in a soothing embrace, dulling the fiery pain with its cool touch.
Something dark called him, from deep within the Temple. Calling… waiting…
His eyes snapped open, and he found himself staring up at the ceiling of his quarters, a soft red glow illuminating the dark quarters. Obi-Wan sat up and saw the kyber crystal resting in his hand, the parts of the Sith's lightsaber scattered about.
Oh kriff.
The Knight rubbed his temple in an attempt to ward off the incessant pounding, which was just as bad when he was around that Kiffar Master. Experiencing Maul's memories, even if they were scattered fragments, was anything but pleasant.
I should tell the Council.
He immediately resisted the idea, knowing that if they knew he had experienced this, they would want to enter his mind. And that was something he could not allow. They would find what helped him defeat the Sith, and Force knows what would happen to him.
Obi-Wan looked at the parts of the lightsaber, then at the corrupted crystal that was still screaming in his mind, out into the Force its agony. Some part of him knew that it should be purified and put out of its misery, but another part knew it could be useful for his investigation.
Surely, Darth Maul knew his Master's identity. And that was the real prize. If he could try to bond with the poor crystal, maybe he could see other memories of the Sith Master.
The Knight felt the agonized crystal reaching out to him, broken, twisted and gnarled tendrils gripping onto him and the beast that lurked behind his shields. The Dark Side thrashed violently against its chains, longing to touch the crystal.
He refused it, pushing it down with Jedi discipline, and reached out to the Force, envisioning the lightsaber as it was. Through the eyes of the Force, he could see it materialize. Parts of the weapon swirled about in a lazy circle, pieces attaching to each other one by one with a series of clicks, until it was whole again.
Well, as whole as half a lightsaber could be.
It hovered in the air before dropping into his waiting hand.
A knock at the door startled him and he nearly dropped the weapon, his shields tightening. "Give me a moment!"
Obi-Wan scrambled to his feet, smoothing out his robes and placing the Sith's lightsaber back into the box it belonged in, locking the compartment. He opened the door and smiled pleasantly, almost dropping the look when he saw who was at his door.
"Master Ti." He bowed his head respectfully at the Togruta, whose dark, unreadable eyes watched him coolly. "What a pleasant surprise. Is there something I can do for you?"
"Yes, there is." Her soft, richly accented voice was a soft melody to his ears, and rather pleasant to listen to. "The Council wants to see you. I do not recommend keeping them waiting."
Finally! he thought. "Of course. Let's not." He strode out of his quarters, following Shaak Ti down the hall to the elevator. They both stepped in and rode it up in silence. Obi-Wan Kenobi reached out to the Force to try and tell what the Master was thinking or feeling, but the Togruta Master was unreadable. It seems he wasn't the only one that kept his defenses up.
When they walked out of the elevator, Shaak Ti spoke.
"Plo Koon told me about your fight."
His cheeks felt warm. "O-oh. He did?" His voice came out slightly strangled and he winced, rubbing the back of his neck.
"He sang your praises." She smiled at him, and he found himself relaxing. "He said you have much to learn, but with time, you will be one of the greatest duelists the Order has ever seen. I believe him. After all, you did beat a master of Shein."
Obi-Wan looked away, burning with the praise. He didn't like all this attention; it would be a relief once he went on the mission. "T-thank you, Master."
"You are changing to Soresu, I hear," she remarked, glancing at him.
He met her gaze, nodding. "Uh, yes. I believe that it will be profitable for me in the long run."
"You never did like to fight," she mused. "It speaks well of you, if the Sithkiller wishes to defend before attack."
Kenobi smiled awkwardly and took a breath. The rest of the way to the Council Chambers was silent, peacefully so and without any of his fans bothering him. They entered the Council Chambers together, all the Masters seated and waiting for his arrival.
While Shaak Ti returned to her seat—given to her when Master Yaddle retired—the Knight bowed when he stepped into the center of the room.
"You called, Masters?"
"The Council has authorized your request to go to Dathomir," Mace Windu informed him, his dark eyes studying the Knight carefully. He could feel the Master probing at his mental defenses, but they did not give way to him.
"Thank you, Masters. I will not fail you." He bowed once again, unable to help the smile spreading across his face.
"Hmm, Dathomir, young one, what know you of it?" Yoda asked, honey eyes watching him carefully.
"I know it's home to the Dathomirians. Nightsisters and Nightbrothers, both very dangerous. It's strong in the Dark Side." He could sense they were judging him.
"Quinlan Vos told us that you went to the Senate Archives to search for more information about Dathomir." Mace Windu steepled his fingers, watching him with an iron gaze.
That Kiffar, he thought furiously. "Yes, Masters. I did."
"What made you compelled to go the Senate Archives for information?" Plo Koon asked, tilting his head. Obi-Wan met the shielded eyes of the Kel Dor, and although he could not see his eyes physically, he could tell they were studying him intently.
"I did not want to go into the situation blind. If I am going to a Dark Side nexus, I cannot be unprepared," he answered truthfully. "Although, there wasn't much to learn about, other than it is a dangerous place."
"There is a reason that information like that is restricted," the dark-skinned master hissed, his eyes slitting dangerously. "You went—"
"I did not go against anything," he interrupted. "The Council said nothing about going elsewhere to search for information."
Yoda chuckled, his wise eyes twinkling. "True, this is. More like Qui-Gon, you are, than I thought." The Grandmaster tapped his gimer stick on Mace's leg, as if nudging him to tell them what they knew.
Windu huffed. "Dathomir, as you know, is a nexus of the Dark Side. The people there are strong with it, but we have reason to believe that their relationship with it is different from the Sith's. We are not sure in what ways, though."
Obi-Wan frowned.
"Make no mistake, the Dark Side is just as dangerous and corrupting no matter what form it takes. It is seductive."
His frown deepened. The Dark Side didn't seem that way. He didn't feel corrupted, nor did his connection to the Force feel disrupted. "I will be careful."
"Prepared for anything you must be," Master Yoda warned.
Plo Koon spoke next. "We would not send you if we thought you couldn't handle it, but you must be careful. Dathomir is dangerous. Exercise patience and vigilance, young one."
"I will, Masters."
Shaak Ti folded her hands in her lap, watching him intently with her dark eyes. "We will send someone to accompany you."
It would be a relief to have someone go with him, especially on a dark planet like Dathomir. "And who might that be?"
"Quinlan Vos."
"Oh kriffing hells!" He incredulously looked at each of the Masters before his gaze settled on Mace Windu, who was rubbing his forehead, as if trying to soothe a forming headache. "You've got to be kidding me."
"I'm afraid not."
Obi-Wan frowned. "Have you discussed the matter of me accessing the Forbidden Archives?"
The Council leaned over whispered amongst each other, causing the young man to nearly roll his eyes. Oh please, knowledge about our enemies should not be this controversial, he thought.
"The Council has yet to come to a decision," Shaak Ti informed him. "However, we do not believe that it is wise to allow you to have access to knowledge about the Sith."
"Why do you believe it is wise to be ignorant of an enemy we didn't know existed up until over a week ago?"
"We are not being ignorant; we are protecting those from the seduction of the Dark Side. Even in the teachings of the Sith, one can be seduced."
Obi-Wan pursed his lips. "There is no ignorance, there is knowledge. I hope you remember this when you make your decision."
Obi-Wan Kenobi stormed down the halls, searching for that blasted Kiffar. What did he do to deserve this? Oh Force, give me strength, he thought wearily. As he walked through the halls of the Academy floor, he passed by one of the sparring areas used to train younglings.
And there stood Qui-Gon, arms folded and watching a certain blonde block the stun bolts from a Marksman-H training remote, with a proud look. One that was reserved for him, and only him. Something that he rarely got from his old Master.
It made him seethe.
The Dark Side gripped him hard, refusing to let go as the anger boiled up, hissing and snarling. Jealousy boiled and ran like an electric current under his skin, his eyes slitting dangerously. He was about to turn and leave when Qui-Gon spotted him.
"Obi-Wan!"
Kenobi debated on ignoring him, but his respectful half got the better of him. Turning slowly, he saw the older man approaching him slowly, supported on a walking stick.
"Hello Qui-Gon," he greeted stiffly. "It seems that your out and about again. I did not expect that to happen so soon."
The older man chuckled dryly. "I may have irritated Master Che. My restless nature cannot be contained, my old student."
Those words hurt.
"Let me guess? She kicked you and your… student out of the medical wing?" He couldn't hide the venomous undertone in his voice, something that anybody with or without the Force could hear clearly.
Qui-Gon frowned briefly. "Perhaps. Has the Council approved your mission yet?"
"Yes. I am being sent with Quinlan Vos to Dathomir."
"I feel sorry for you," the man replied with a grimace.
"I do too."
"Obi-Wan…"
"What?" he snapped.
"If this is about Anakin—"
"It's always about Anakin Skywalker with you!" he hissed, narrowing his eyes at the Master. "It's always about that dangerous boy you brought from that dustball of a planet!"
"He's not dangerous." Qui-Gon folded his arms. "With time and patience, he will learn to control his emotions, and he will become a great Jedi."
"So you can toss him to the side for another student that's better?"
The Jedi Master blanched. "Is this really what it's about? Obi-Wan, I did not toss you aside for a stronger student. You were ready to be a Knight, there was nothing more I could teach you."
"Is that so?" He smiled, but there was malice behind it. "Because I distinctly remember you telling me, 'You still have much to learn, my young Padawan.' Besides," he placed a hand over his heart, "you didn't teach me how to control this."
The older man flinched. "I tried my best, Obi-Wan."
"Yes, you tried your best. Yet I still fell for Satine, and oh how it hurt when I had to leave her." Tears pricked at his eyes. "Do you know how hard that was for me? If she had just said something, I would've stayed with her."
"She was mindful that you are a Jedi."
"Yes," he stated flatly. "And she a Duchess, a ruler over a broken planet."
"Obi-Wan!" The Master shook his head. "Be mindful of your emotions."
"As should you with the boy."
"Jealous does not suit you." Qui-Gon looked at him disapprovingly, disappointment swimming in the depths of those blue eyes. It made his stomach twist into knots; he hated that look. "You are talking about a child, Obi-Wan."
His jaw clenched tightly enough that it hurt. "A dangerous child. He's too old and he is filled with far too much anger and fear. Even Master Yoda said it!"
"His potential—"
"Is greater than mine," he snapped, feeling the darkness thrash in its chains, longing to be released on the man causing his aggravation. The older man didn't sense it, but then again, none of them did. "Yes, Qui-Gon, we all know how much better your golden child is than me."
"I will hear no more of this."
"Of course not, Master. You never hear anything I have to say on this matter." He watched Anakin deactivate the training remote and look at Qui-Gon expectantly. "It seems your Padawan is finished, so I will be taking my leave."
Without waiting for a response, he brushed past the Master and continued onward with his search for Quinlan Vos. The distasteful task was already proving to be more trouble that it was worth, and he briefly considered just leaving without the Kiffar, but he knew the Council wouldn't approve.
Kenobi grew irritated when he was stopped multiple times, both by Masters and Knights, seeking for him to teach the students. Obviously, he declined, but being kind, he did promise to return later when he wasn't on a pressing mission.
Eventually, he decided to check the training room he and Plo Koon had sparred in the morning. He had to circle back around and take the elevator down to the lower levels, arriving ten minutes later. His instincts were right, and the Kiffar Master was indeed there, sparring with his former Padawan, Aalya Secura.
Quinlan spotted him out of the corner of his eye. "Obi-Wan!" He parried the aggressive series of strikes, spinning around on his heel and attacking her with his unpredictable form. The few scattered Initiates who were watching grew excited at the sight of the Sithkiller.
The blue Twi'lek attempted to draw his attention elsewhere, but he was not to be distracted. The Kiffar brought his lightsaber, and it connected with her neck, leaving a red mark. She rubbed her neck, groaning.
"And you're dead. Again." He sounded gleeful, dark eyes twinkling as he clipped his saber to his belt.
"You cheated."
"I cheated? Says the one who attacked me when I was distracted."
"You used Tràkata." Aalya pointed an accusing finger at him. "You broke the one, unspoken rule, of combat."
"Oh c'mon, it's not like I use it often." He shrugged, grinning slyly. "One moment, I have to talk to my best friend here."
"We're not—" Kenobi shook his head, sighing. He wasn't even going to bother to try to say anything, it was only more fuel for the fire.
"So what brings you here, oh high and mighty Sithkiller?"
"You're coming with me on the mission to Dathomir," he stated flatly, watching as Quinlan's features light up.
"I'm honored that you chose me as your companion," he drawled.
"I didn't." He smirked slightly when the Kiffar frowned. "The Council chose you, for whatever reason. If it were up to me, I would've left you here. But, I doubt the High Council would be pleased with my poor decision making."
"Aw…" Vos leaned in slightly, and he could smell his breath—his disgusting breath that smelled like the sour, strong stench of ixetal cilona, used in the making of death sticks. He put a hand in the Kiffar's face, pushing him away. "I'm so glad—"
"Just, ugh, pack whatever you need." He paused, realizing that could be a poor decision. "Don't bring death sticks or an alcoholic beverage. Actually, just bring yourself and your lightsaber."
"You take the fun out of everything," he whined, but his eyes were smiling with a mischievous glint Obi-Wan knew would be problematic.
Force, give me strength.