The first thing that Reva noticed when she came to was the strange, sloped ceiling above her.

Weird, she thought to herself. It looks like it's made of some worn, weather-beaten fabric. But there are no medic tents out in the middle of the desert.

For a moment, she wondered if she had been left and buried alive in the desert. Just then, she felt an oily gloved hand on her forehead and heard a strange growl from beside her. She immediately tried to sit up, alarmed. As she did so, she felt a heavy blanket slide off of her.

"Where am I?" Reva spluttered, dazed and confused.

As her vision sharpened and came into focus, she became aware of her surroundings.

She was lying down in the middle of some sort of tent, covered in a brown sheet of some unidentified cloth. All around her were strange figures, wrapped from head to toe in coarse tan fabrics and wearing all sorts of head coverings to obscure their faces. The lenses from their goggles bulged out slightly. As they spoke, she could hear the metallic scraping from their mouth grilles (some of which were probably rusty from years of breathing in the harsh desert air).

Reva coughed, feeling a few stubborn grains of sand fly from between her lips and out of her throat. The Sand Person closest to her reached into an animal hide satchel and pulled out a flask made out of ancient, rusted metal. She immediately tried to reach for it, only to realize that her hands had been tied with some sort of coarse rope. The Sand Person unscrewed the cap of their water flask and held it out to her mouth, waiting for her. Reva hesitantly opened her lips a fraction of an inch, allowing them to tip the flask's contents onto her tongue. Seconds later, she spluttered loudly as the taste finally reached the taste buds on her sand-numbed dry tongue. The liquid that they had just given her was bitter and acrid. Black melon milk, she realized. Not my favorite.

"Kahnnnnyutawk?" One of them demanded, their voice scratchy and distorted. Their voice was rough and aged like the desert sands themselves, likely belonging to someone who older. Reva squinted at them, trying to distinguish their facial features, but all she could see was the glint of their visor.

"Huh?"

The Sand Person spat and muttered some sort of cuss word, clearly annoyed with her slowness. "Kawhniuutaok?" They repeated again irritably. "Kanniutawk? Didyoohearmeee? Can you talk?"

"Oh," Reva said.

Their accent made it slightly hard to understand, as Basic was clearly not their first language. But she could see now what they were trying to say.

"Yes," she said hoarsely, speaking as slowly as possible. "I can. I can understand you, thank you."

The Sand Person nodded and turned to the others, translating it into their language.

At least they can understand me, Reva thought dismally. But I would much rather be able to understand them.

Silently, she weighed her options. Escaping the bonds would not be an issue. She could easily remove the ropes from her wrists, but she was not so sure if she could survive an encounter with their guards. There were at least ten of them, all pointing extremely sharp gaffi sticks at her, and she could not sense her lightsaber nearby. Perhaps they had buried it deep beneath the sand as a precaution or sold it to some eager Jabba. Either way, her chances of surviving depended on her other skills.

One of her captors suddenly jeered. "There is no use interrogating her. This is clearly some stupid foreign woman who went wandering along the Sand Flats and got attacked in the sinksands," they muttered.

Reva's face turned red. "I am not stupid," she fired back. "And I did not fall into the sinksands. I was attacked," she muttered.

Immediately, there was a shift in the energy of the room. Her interrogators stared at her, stunned. One of them turned to whisper something into their companion's ear. Each one of them shifted their position, now grasping their weapons tightly.

What, is my voice really that scary? Reva thought drily.

"Identify yourself, now," her interrogator growled again. Their metal grille distorted their voice so much that she could not tell if they were male or female, made even more unclear by their genderless clothing. "Who are you?"

"I'm a humble laborer," Reva replied. " I have no name. Parents died before they could give me one."

The leader crossed their arms, allowing the folds of their heavy sleeves to fall back and revealing an intimidatingly sharp hook (no doubt used to gouge out opponents' eyes). Reva gasped silently, but quickly collected herself. The rest of the stick was weather-beaten and worn down, but the hook itself remained pristine and shiny, as if it was made out of some resilient material like durasteel.. She immediately felt a chill run down her back. Her eyes flickered back and forth to the sharp-ended hook of their gaffi stick. The leader gripped the end of the stick and pulled it out in one smooth, rapid motion so they could raise it above their heads. Reva winced as they brought it down, the stick making a loud bang as it came down upon the ground beneath them.

This must be the chieftain, she thought to herself. They have the most dangerous-looking gaffi stick of all.

"Do not get ahead of yourself," the chieftain hissed. "Make no mistake. We take our people's safety very seriously, and we do not take kindly to any enemies. If I find out that you are lying to me, then I will be forced to terminate you. Are we understood?"

Reva nodded, inhaling shakily. Two Sand People on either side of her reached out and seized her shoulders with thick, heavy gloves made out of some oily tanned hide. She swallowed, feeling humiliation creep into her face. They gripped her arms tightly, letting her know that she was not about to escape anytime soon.

Just then the chieftain whistled, then suddenly an animalistic growl came from near her. Reva looked down and nearly jumped as she saw a strange, reptilian creature baring its fangs at her. Cold sweat poured down her forehead as she saw its sharp blood-stained teeth, its horned antlers, and the pointy spikes running down its spine. Soulless black eyes stared back at her, completely feral and hungry and devoid of mercy. The beast's jaws salivated voraciously as it waited for the signal to sink its teeth into her.

"I hope you don't mind if my massiffs listen to you while we talk," the chieftain said casually. As she watched, more and more of the same type of reptilian creature appeared and began to gather in a circle surrounding her. To run now would mean unavoidable death. "They're rather hungry, I'm afraid, so I would try not to move so much. It agitates them."

The grip on each of her arms tightened slightly. Reva swallowed and nodded.

"Alright," the chieftain said. "It is obvious that you are not one of us. That is true, yes?"

Reva nodded slowly, hoping that was the correct response. She heard a whistle through the air and gasped, feeling something cold and sharp graze at her neck. The chieftain tightened their grip on the gaffi stick, pressing the metal harder. Reva's heart caught in her throat, almost afraid that if she swallowed slightly that the sharp hook would pierce through her skin.

"I expect you to respond to me when I ask you questions," the chieftain growled.

Reva forced herself to swallow, trying to moisten her tongue so she could get it unstuck from the roof of her mouth. "Yes," she said, her voice trembling slightly. "I understand."

"Good," the chieftain said coldly, and the hook withdrew a few inches away from her throat. "Now answer my question. You have never seen our people before? You are not affiliated with any Sand People tribe or enclave, correct?"

Reva made to shake her head, then thought better of it. "No," she said, wishing she knew what title to call her interrogator. Chief? Lord? She did not know if using the wrong word would result in them automatically beheading her. "I am not affiliated with any of your people."

"What about the Bounty Hunters' Guild?" the chieftain jeered. "Did someone from there teach you their tricks?"

"No, of course not," Reva frowned again. "I'm just a poor slave," she lied, hoping that they would not call her bluff. "I worked in the glitterstim mines as a spice runner until I was emancipated by a group of rogue Jedi and they gave me one of their weapons to protect myself. After that, I switched to mining phrik instead. I don't know much of the outside world."

"So you have never ventured outside of Tatooine to other worlds before? You have never met our kind while travelling the Galaxy?"

"Not once," she said. She would definitely have remembered something like encountering a Tusken Raider out in Wild Space. "This is the first time I have ever spoken face-to-face with your kind."

"I find that very hard to believe," the chieftain replied, their tone hard and unyielding. "She is lying again."

Impossible! Reva thought frustratedly.

"I am not a spy, and I have never interacted with any of your lot before, ever," Reva looked into what she hoped was the chieftain's eyes as she spoke. "I used to be one of the Hutts' slaves," she said hastily, knowing that there were too many for them to really verify that information. "But I am no longer affiliated with them anymore ever since I was emancipated and granted my freedom. You can search me if you like, but you won't find anything on me. No comms or weapon," she muttered darkly. "Now, do you believe me?"

"I think we have all heard enough," the chieftain said, standing up. Reva felt a flutter of hope as they lowered their gaffi stick and turned their back to her, walking away. Finally, once they were a few feet away, they turned back around and nodded at the guards restraining her. "You may now kill her."

"No!" Reva screamed, attempting to shake them off. "Why do you think that I am lying?" she demanded, her voice cracking with desperation.

The massiffs let out a loud bark and started to growl. Reva shrank back fearfully.

"Because," the chieftain said, advancing furiously towards her until they were now face-to-face. "You claim to be an outsider, yet you speak our language perfectly. Why is that?"

"I-" Reva froze. "What...what are you saying?" she stammered.

"Can't you hear yourself right now?" The chieftain retorted hostilely. "You are speaking in the native tongue of the Kunumgah!"

Luke.

Luke.

Luke!

Far away, on a remote ship, a small boy with blue eyes opened his eyes and jolted awake.

He attempted to open his mouth, either to speak or scream, but he could barely breathe due to the clear plasticene mask covering it. Next to him, he could hear a medical droid whirring around.

Luke. Do you hear me? The voice begged, sounding more desperate now.

The medical droid next to him turned its head and peered at him with its ocular cameras, blinking curiously. Luke closed his eyes and turned away, hoping it wouldn't see him.

"Please do not disconnect your oxymask from its gas filter," the droid said slowly, its tone robotic and devoid of any emotion.

Luke obeyed silently, removing his hand from the seethrough tubing.

Instead, he looked around and did his best to take in his surroundings. As far as he could tell, they were inside a small medical room on some sort of spacecraft that was currently in flight but not using its hyperdrive. His whole body felt feeble; nerves would not obey him, limbs would not relax properly. It felt as if his entire body was in rigor mortis.

"Hey," Luke called weakly, trying to catch the attention of the droid. It ignored him. "Hey!" he yelled, a bit louder this time.

The droid paused.

"Why can't I move?" he asked.

The droid shrugged.

"You were in stasis," it replied. "For fifteen days. Any muscle degeneration or loss to your range of mobility is likely a side effect."

"Fifteen...days?" Luke asked feebly, trying to calm down and stop his rapidly beating heart from panicking. The last thing he remembered was seeing the Sith Lord reach towards him, and pull him through the air as if using some sort of magic. He remembered his arm ripping, and shuddered immediately. Luke looked down at his left side expecting to see a bloody stump; instead, he was met with a neatly-wrapped wad of gauze and plasticast covering his wound. And underneath it, he could see a prosthetic arm that had been attached during his sleep. He could see the metal fingers peeking out from underneath the gauze, but his hand was balled up into a tight fist. No matter how hard he tried, he could not get the fingers to open. He stared at it curiously, trying to move it.

It was strange...there must have been some sort of anesthetic in the gas mixture that he was being fed, because he could not even feel it. Neither pain nor pleasure. Just the complete absence thereof.

"Where am I?" Luke asked again. Maybe I can just ask the droid to send me home.

"You are on our Lord Vader's personal spacecraft, The Executor," the medical droid informed him.

Luke blinked slowly, trying to tell if it was a ruse or not. But the droid's tone did not change.

Uncle Owen had told him the risks of what might happen, but Luke had been mostly confident that the Jedi would prevent it. What was he supposed to do now? This wasn't supposed to happen.

When he continued to ask questions about where they were going and which sector of the galaxy they were currently in, the droid simply replied with bored non-answers. "You do not have a high enough security clearance for access to that information," it replied simply. Luke took a deep breath, wiping the sweat from his forehead with his good hand.

Remember, Luke, Uncle Owen had always said. The best way to survive is to keep your wits about you. Don't panic. Don't start flailing like an upturned womp rat. But despite everything, he could not hide from the truth, which was that he was terrified.

His small frame began to shake. The boy almost let out a sob when suddenly he heard the loud noise of an automatic door bursting open somewhere near him. His eyes opened wide, and he almost let out a scream of fear as he saw who had entered.

The Sith Lord, he thought to himself fearfully. It's him!

Luke immediately squeezed his eyes shut, whimpering slightly. He wrapped his remaining arm around himself and curled into a ball, turning his back to the door.

He's come to take my other arm, he thought feverishly. And then he's going to tear me apart, limb from limb...then my leg, and my other leg, and finally my head...

Luke trembled and closed his eyes.

"Luke," a mechanical voice spoke, and the boy immediately shuddered. He closed his fist up tightly, trying his best not to lose his composure. "Luke. Turn around and look at me."

Luke shuddered and moved his head an inch. Suddenly, there was a hard push on his throat, as an invisible force moved his head by itself. He felt as if his neck was going to snap from the pressure.

"Luke," the Sith monster hissed. "My son. Finally, you are back."

Luke felt a cold chill run down his chest. He tried in vain to keep his eyes shut, but his eyelashes were spasming rapidly from anxiety. Heavy, metallic footsteps were approaching him.

Thud.

Thud.

Thud.

"Look at me."

Luke shuddered, trying his best to remember the games of bounty hunters and Tuskens that he had played with his other classmates. He clenched his good fist tighter and tighter, trying to hold onto his memories. All he could think of was the time he showed up to school in Uncle Owen's old clothes and wound up in the sand flats with his face rubbed in the dirt. The first moisture harvest of the year when he was only five. The time he and Wedge snuck some ruby biel at a cantina when nobody was looking. The boring, plain tatoes that Aunt Beru sometimes served that he always complained about. The time that everyone at school forced him to eat a dung worm while the pretty girl with red hair was watching, earning him a terribly cruel nickname.

"Stop turning away from me, Luke. Look at me."

Luke's eyes fluttered open, but still he forced himself to clench and unclench his good wrist rhythmically. He still felt nothing in the other arm. Luke frantically began to move his left shoulder, trying to get blood pumping into it. It didn't matter to him if the first sensation to come back was pain. He needed to get back to being fully functional, and fast. He slammed his left shoulder against the mat and let out a small grunt as he instantly felt a million tiny pinpricks spring to life and pierce the top of his upper arm. As he recoiled, trying to recover from the sudden agony, he heard another mechanical growl of frustration from next to him.

"Don't be disobedient, Luke. Open your eyes!"

His left wrist flopped back against the table, the metal fingers opening instantly. Luke's eyes fluttered open.

Blue eyes scanned over and came to rest upon the tall, imposing dark figure. Luke cowered as the Sith Lord rose before him, taller than any man he had ever seen on Tatooine and nine times as dangerous. Luke inhaled sharply as the ambiguous features of the black mask faced towards him. He wanted nothing more in the world than to cry the longer he was forced to look at it.

"Unbind him," the Sith Lord ordered. The medical droid moved to pull at the straps holding him down the medical cot. As it attempted to release one of them, it accidentally pulled the wrong end of the strap, causing it to close around Luke's neck. Luke immediately coughed involuntarily. Suddenly, a bright red flash blinded him as he heard the telltale sound of plasma whirring dangerously. Seconds later, the medical droid fell to the ground with a loud metallic clang, cleanly cut into two pieces. Luke stared at the pile of now smoking scrap metal, his eyes wide.

Vader raised his hand into the air and motioned. Immediately, the straps holding Luke down to the cot untied and loosened themselves. He let out a breath as he felt the straps on his chest fall away, allowing him to take deeper breaths.

"Better?"

Luke avoided making eye contact, only nodded.

"Come down from there," the Sith Lord said, reaching out a hand.

Luke kept his head turned away, facing towards the ground. He did not want to acknowledge him.

"I said, come!"

Luke could hear the voice inside his head screaming at him not to. But what choice did he have?

Shakily, he reached out and placed his smaller hand inside the black gloves of the monster who had cut off his arm. The black gloved fingers closed around his hand, capturing it. Luke was suddenly yanked off the cot with more force than he could resist. He almost lost balance and instinctively threw his other hand out, grasping at the bedsheets to stabilize himself, only for the metal fingers to brush uselessly against them. Vader had to reach out with his other hand and catch him before he fell. He looked up, trying to decide what he was supposed to do. He should try and run away. But his legs were not fully cooperating.

"Who...are you?" he slurred, looking at the black mask blankly.

The lifeless mask stared back at him blankly.

"I am your father," the mask said simply.

As Luke followed the dark figure into another area on the ship, he breathed in heavily, clutching his left arm to his chest. The cold metal felt sharp and foreign against his skin, and he attempted to rub it onto his shirt, trying to transfer his body heat to it. Perhaps the nerves would reactivate once the artificial joints were warm. As they walked from corridor to corridor, they passed several large decorative blocks of stone that were as tall as a man and as wide as door. The Sith Lord did not slow down for him, only quickening his pace more and more as he retained an unshakeable grip on Luke's shoulder. Luke did his best to follow along, but his heavy legs felt as if they were laden with lead and moving through thick water. The Sith eventually stopped, impatiently, and turned around.

"Who is there?" he growled. "I can see you!"

Luke said nothing. Before he could react, there was another bright flash of red and the buzzing sound of a blade being ignited. Vader whirled around, cutting the sword through the air. Behind them, he heard the telltale sound of a body hitting the ground.

The Sith Lord hunched over, peering at the hapless victim. Luke's eyes widened and he immediately felt his throat close up, staring at the dead woman in an Imperial uniform with a blaster still clutched within her lifeless fingers.

"Hmph," the Sith said. "Rebel agent. I'll have to interrogate her supervisor later."

Luke shuddered and turned back around. In the red glow of the lightsaber, he could see more of the room around them. With horror, he realized that the blocks they had been walking past were not decorative blocks at all but transparent amber coffins. Each one contained the petrified face of some former prisoner or unlucky Jedi. Luke's eyes widened even more, and he stifled a silent scream.

The Sith Lord indifferently raised his commlink to his wrist. "I've found another rat," he hissed. He began to mutter instructions into the device, and Luke brought his flesh hand to his mouth to bite it. If he screamed, he would be the one on the floor next. Seconds later, he felt the strong grip back on his shoulder and suddenly he was being whisked away into more endless corridors of winding darkness. Luke let out a small sob.

After what felt like hours, they finally reached the room that the Sith Lord wanted to bring him into. Luke quietly allowed himself to be led to a small table, where there was a small tray of plain ahrisa and a glass of steaming hot teat that smelled vaguely minty. He awkwardly sat down at the child-sized chair next to it, waiting to be given further instruction.

"You may eat," Vader said coldly.

Luke's stomach grumbled loudly. He must not have eaten during the two weeks that he was in stasis. But fear kept his hand from moving towards the familiar grainy bread.

"I don't know you," he said quietly, his voice a lot higher than usual. The Sith Lord stared at him blankly. Luke began to wish he hadn't spoken at all.

"No, you do not. But you will soon. I am your father, Anakin Skywalker. And you are the son that was born and stolen away from me without my knowledge."

A chill ran through his spine.

"I don't have a father," Luke said quietly.

"Everyone has a father," Vader scoffed. "How can you not?"

"I had one, but he's dead now. He died a long time ago."

"Oh?" Vader asked, feigning surprise. "What happened to him?"

"He was...a spice runner," Luke whispered. "He fell in love with my mother, and then they gave me up when I was a baby so that I could live near where there would be clean water everyday. And then they died in a sandstorm together."

"Hmph. How romantic," Vader replied mockingly. "I did not take Lars for the storytelling type. So, he's been going around telling everyone that I died in the middle of the Dunesea, huh? He should know better than anyone that a mere sandstorm could never take me out."

"Can you take me back home?"

Silence.

"Please," Luke begged. "I don't mind how long it takes. I just want to go back home."

"That is a lie," Vader snarled. "You don't want to go back there. That place was not your home."

"Yes it is," Luke whispered weakly.

"Do not contradict me, you are trying my patience."

"I'm...sorry, sir."

"Just remain silent and do not speak until I tell you to." Luke noddes slowly. "As I was saying...you have a sister. I am still looking for her."

Luke stared at him blankly. "A sister?" he asked, confused. "But I don't have a sister! My parents never had any children after me."

"That's because she's the same age as you, young one," Vader sneered. "Not a younger sister. Your twin."

"Twin?" Luke repeated slowly. "How can that be? I'm an only child," he insisted.

"No, you are not," Vader growled back. "You have a twin sister, and her name is Leia. Her father hid her somewhere far away from me, and he thinks that he can keep her away from me. But I will not allow him to."

Leia...?

The cogs in Luke's brain began to spin as he tried in vain to remember where he had heard that name before. Due to the carbonite, his mind was still filled with brain fog. All that came back was a confused mess of jumbled memories.

Suddenly, a vivid memory of a small girl with brown hair flashed into his mind.

The girl from Alderaan, Luke realized. But...there's no way! She can't be...

"Yes, it is true," Vader replied. "You know it, too. The Force already told you a long time ago."

Luke swallowed.

"She has been kept from me for too long. I almost got her back, but my plans were interrupted," Vader sneered. "Regardless, it is in the past. You don't need to worry about it anymore, Luke. We are going to get her back."

"What do you mean...get her back?" Luke asked skeptically. "You want to kidnap her from her parents?"

"From her false parents, yes."

Luke shook his head. "Leia wouldn't like that," he crossed his arms. "Taking kids from their homes is no good."

"And what would you know of that, child?"

Luke trembled, feeling the shadow loom above him.

"I will tell you what we are going to do. You are going to help me find her, where she is. As twins, you have a rare Force connection that only certain people can access. You will use the link to discover where it is that she is hiding, and then we will go find her."

"I can't use the Force," Luke babbled. "I'm not...special. I'm just a dumb farmboy," he protested.

"Wrong! You are my son, the blood of Skywalker and the Force itself runs through you," Vader snarled. "You will be the one to lead me to her. And then, once we have collected your sister, we shall return to Mustafar. And there...we will rebuild our family."

Family...?

"The only family that I know about is Uncle Owen and Aunt Beru," Luke shot back. "I don't know who you are, but you are certainly not my family."

"ENOUGH!" Vader howled.

Before Luke could react, he suddenly found himself being grabbed and dragged forcefully. Vader clenched his fingers around his upper left arm in a forceful grip, and Luke howled as the sensation of pain returned to his amputated elbow. He could feel the sudden sensation of blood running through unused veins, and the rush of a million nerves suddenly flaring back to life. Luke wailed and thrashed, trying to dislodge his arm from Vader's grip, trying to push him away with his left hand. But it was to no avail. Suddenly, he found himself being roughly pushed into a dark room. Vader flicked a switch somewhere, and the room suddenly flashed brightly as it was illuminated with light.

Luke found himself in a small chamber, with a hole in the center of the floor about the size of a man. Above the hole, he could see a strange machine hanging down from the ceiling. He did not like the look of it. Vader shoved him towards it wordlessly. He resisted, trying to hold onto Vader's robes.

"Go," Vader said forcefully. "Get inside. Don't make me wait."

Luke hesitated. He looked up at Vader, begging him silently not to make him go towards the hole.

"Do what you're told," Vader hissed.

His legs trembling, Luke slowly walked towards the center of the room and peered into the hole.

"Get in," Vader ordered him. "Faster! Don't waste my time!"

Silently, Luke crouched down and grabbed onto the ledge. He wasn't sure if his mechanical hand could grasp it, but it suddenly whirred to life and automatically gripped it tightly. Vader continued to nudge at him until he swung his legs over the edge and into the hole. As he looked up, Vader glared back down at him.

"Now let go," Vader snarled.

Luke looked behind him. The hole was still about six feet deep, and once he was inside, he had no idea how he was supposed to get out. I guess he's making me sit in timeout in here, he thought. But I'm a bit old for that...aren't I?

"Let go, now."

Luke obeyed.

With a muffled thud, he fell backwards into the hole. Luke let out a quiet groan. When he looked up, all he could see was Vader looming above the hole ominously.

"Father...?" Luke asked weakly, trying the word out on his tongue.

"Be quiet, Luke. Don't make things any worse than they already are."

And with that, he heard the sound of gas jets.

Luke blinked his eyes sluggishly, not understanding what was going. He tried to sit up, but doing so hurt his neck and he had to lie back down again. The room was starting to fill with a hazy vapor.

"Father," he said fearfully. "What is happening?"

"I'm doing this for your own good," the Sith Lord replied.

And with that, he walked away.

Luke screamed as the cloudy gas filled his entire vision. Soon the dreadful cold vapors surrounded him, slowly freezing him until he could no longer move. The sound of the gas jets continued to haunt him, the sensation of the ringing his ears become more and more high pitched until he could not hear anymore.

This is for your own good, Vader's voice echoed in his mind.

Luke, a softer voice cried out. Luke, Luke, please don't die. Stay with me. I need you, I need you to come back to me.

But Luke's eyes were getting heavier and heavier. Soon enough, they became too frozen to even open.

Thus, it was with a sigh that Luke laid back down and allowed the gas vapors to overtake him.

A million lightyears away, however, a small girl on Alderaan began to cry.

"I've lost contact with him," she sobbed. "I'm...I...I think he's dead," she whispered.

Obi-Wan and Ahsoka did not say a word. All they could do was open their arms to her, allowing Leia to cry into them. Ahsoka looked over at Cody wearily.

"No sign of Reva?" she asked.

"No," Cody shook his head. "We've been searching the Sand Flats high and low...we haven't even recovered a single body yet," he murmured.

"And what of Thrawn?" Obi-Wan asked Ahsoka. She also shook her head.

"I'm afraid...the Emperor may have gotten to him," she whispered.

Together, the two Jedi bowed their heads in mourning.