this is a long one, but stick with it :,)

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

"WHY DID YOU LET HIM GO?" ARTIE SHOUTED. HER EYES WERE ALREADY EAGER TO WEEP AND SHE COULDN'T EVEN THINK TO STOP THEM. Tears fell in thick sheets and left her half-blind. Artie drew her lightsaber and the white blade burst out like a bolt of lightning, held to the Father's neck as it wavered in her hand.

Obi-Wan cast Artie a glance but said nothing.

"I'm letting the will of the Force take control — what I should have done before!" the Father bellowed, undeterred by Artie's threat. "Destiny is destiny and I will not bear the consequences of trying to change it any longer."

"But he's our friend," Artie cried, voice breaking. "You let him walk right into danger!"

"It seems you are convinced Skywalker's choices will harm him," the Father mused. "That he is . . . impressionable. If he is truly the champion of his prophecy, what have you to fear? You don't trust him?"

Artie froze. He was right. Why was she so afraid of what Anakin might do when faced with the Dark Side up close? Why was she so overcome by doubt? She should have had enough faith in him to believe he would deny any temptation — Obi-Wan seemed convinced, after all. But the more Artie's thoughts raced, the more she realized that even Obi-Wan didn't know how Anakin truly felt, not really. Only she was let fully into him to see how unhappy the Order could make him, how restricted and potently bitter the Masters made him feel. Anakin lamented over the Code and how it kept them apart, over how it was shaping Ahsoka's worldview and stemming their efforts in the war.

Only she knew what was truly in the Hero With No Fear's heart, and only she knew that a good portion of his feelings was not heroic at all.

Artie tried to compose herself. "Of course we trust him," she said shakily. "Your son is the dangerous one."

"But you fear more than anything he will shape Skywalker to bring danger as well," the Father replied coolly. "Your faith is conditional."

Artie slit her eyes. "How dare — "

Obi-Wan lifted a hand and she fell silent. "We absolutely do not have time for this. Artemis, what did he say to you before he left?"

She sheathed her lightsaber. "He said he wanted to help you contain the Son." She shot an accusatory look at the Father. "He thought you would do it together."

"It would not have proceeded so simply," the Father said tonelessly. "On this planet . . . there is a place where everything dark is channeled. With my daughter gone . . . the Well's power is unchecked. Its influence would have reached Skywalker no matter what his intentions might have been."

"How do I get there?" Obi-Wan asked calmly. "To the Well?"

The Father's eyes seemed to burst into flame. "You may not interfere."

Artie folded her arms. She wanted to fire back with some biting and poetic remark, but all that came out was "Says who?"

"You have no idea the matters you toy with," the Father said gravely.

"Perhaps not," Obi-Wan replied. "But I believe if we were not supposed to help Anakin, Artemis and I wouldn't be here at all. If Fate is so tedious, then surely it would eliminate its foilers."

"Perhaps it might still."

This, Obi-Wan seemed to ignore. He ventured back inside the shuttle and retrieved its second minispeeder — Anakin had taken the first — and climbed on. "Stay with the ship, Artemis, and wait for us. I'll be right back."

With that, Obi-Wan took off in the direction of the spire, leaving Artie and the Father in very uncomfortable silence. Artie sighed and went, disheartened, to sit on the edge of the shuttle again. Se put her elbows on her knees and dropped her face in her hands, hoping that the Father would get bored of her and leave. When she lifted her head, he was still there, back to her, hands folded behind him.

Some of Artie's indignation returned. "You're wrong about Anakin. He's the most loyal person I've ever met. He's impulsive, maybe, but there are lines he would never cross. There are lines good people would never cross."

The Father answered so quickly, Artie wondered if he had read her thoughts beforehand. "What makes you so certain his destiny is goodness? You cling to that so fervently . . . Kenobi too, but for a far different reason. He understands the Force, its depths, and he can feel how far Skywalker's roots run. He was quite literally born from it. A man like Skywalker can not only balance the Force, but topple it, and Kenobi knows this. He's known it for years. So he believes more than anything that Skywalker will walk in the light because any other idea is unthinkable. Without his Order and his Code, Kenobi will waste away."

Artie blinked, horrified and at a loss for words. She wanted more than anything to be angry but found she couldn't justify it. The Father's words made perfect and terrible sense. The more she trained in the Force, the more aware of it within her she became. It grew like a muscle and spread through every part of herself, honing her instincts and aiding in combat; despite what she'd always believed, wielding a lightsaber was not only physical, and far more than an art of fighting to learn. And so when Artie ever felt the Force shift in her, dig its roots deeper, glow a little brighter, she could remember the feeling and reach out to Anakin and find it magnified tenfold within him. A hundredfold. A bottomless sea of energy and prowess. She had no idea how one being could contain that much power, and sometimes it made her scared to talk to him. She'd used to laugh when the Holonet would speculate if the Jedi were perhaps gods among them all, but since knowing Anakin, she didn't fault them the thought.

And so now, if the Father was right, Artie understood why Obi-Wan's trust in Anakin had to be steadfast and unwavering; if his hand turned, and he decided he wanted to, Anakin could destroy absolutely anything with no equal to oppose him. Artie realized in the next second that Anakin Skywalker didn't have an equal because not even the universe could decide where he would throw his lot. The game he was made to play had wagered the entire galaxy both for and against him.

"Even with all his walls and barriers, Kenobi is not a difficult man to read," the Father continued. "And you, Adhara, attempt no walls at all. You arrived the Order wasted away, and you do not look for it to piece you back together. Your reasons for upholding Skywalker as a champion are far more pathetic — "

Artie jumped to her feet. "What are you — "

"The instincts of a silly girl who doesn't understand a thing placed before her!" The Father's voice roared so loud Artie clamped her hands over her ears. "I am not Kenobi and I am not your witless Masters! Skywalker is not just your friend, Adhara, and you deny his conflict for the sake of yourself. You don't want him to succumb to the Dark Side, to leave you behind, because it would render every sacrifice you have made for him obsolete."

Artie's throat tightened. "That's not true."

"It's very true. You gave up a promising career in politics training underneath that Amidala woman, the first person to show you any sort of friendship in nearly a decade, to join an order that didn't want you and fight in a war you don't support, all for Skywalker. If he betrays the ideals of his Masters and aligns himself with the Sith, you will have given up everything for nothing, and you cannot stomach the thought."

"You don't know me," Artie whispered, her whole frame shaking. "You don't know why I've done anything. I joined the Order so I could do more to help people — "

"You knew that if you stayed with Amidala and she locked you in those Senate offices, you would never see Skywalker again. Do not mistake yourself for some kind of hero."

Tears welled in Artie's eyes. "Why are you saying these things? What have we done to deserve to come here? Everything was fine before we met any of you!"

The Father looked down at her, unfazed and unpitying. "Denial is what causes you humans to suffer so. Accept what is true and perhaps your heart will ache less."

Artie wanted to scream. When she looked up, he was gone. Vanished into thin air like she wished she could. His warning tumbled over itself in her mind, tangled and incoherent. The tips of her fingers were numb and each intake of breath was sharp, hollow, like her lungs were too appalled to open themselves up. Don't mistake yourself for some kind of hero, the Father had said . . . Artie had never claimed to be one. The rest of it, though . . . .

She didn't have time to think about his accusations. Artie's comm buzzed on her wrist and Obi-Wan's panicked voice arrested the silence.

"Artemis," he said. "Artemis, please come in."

She sniffed and raised the comm to her mouth. "Y-yes?"

"Can you hear me?" His voice wavered. Artie sat up straighter.

"I can. Did you find Anakin? Is he okay?"

"I found him." Obi-Wan sounded like he would rather be dead. "He has joined with the Son. He's headed back to the ship. Do not engage with him, no matter what. Do you understand me?"

Artie stopped breathing. She felt like she might pass out right there; her vision swam and for several moments she fought hard not to vomit. She could only hear Obi-Wan's crackling voice say ". . . dismantle the ship," over the roaring in her ears.

"Artemis!" he barked. She gave herself a shake. "Artemis, please listen to me. Dismantle the ship. I know this is bad, but I don't think it's too late to fix it. We can still save him."

Artie swallowed her hysteria and did her best to remain stable, at least for Obi-Wan's sake. "Okay. Okay. Just . . . stay where you are. I'll get to you somehow."

She shut off the comm and leaped inside the shuttle. Something buzzed at the base of her spine, and she knew Anakin was close. Artie burst inside the cockpit and did the first thing she could think of — she seized the control that sparked the engine and ripped it out of the panel. No engine meant no flying. It was the best she could do; the whine of Anakin's speeder sliced the silence, and she did a very Ahsoka-esque thing and leaped onto the ceiling.

Anakin stormed inside, oblivious to her looming just above him. Artie's heart beat so hard, she thought it might shake the ship. He slipped into the cockpit.

"Artie," she heard him growl, and she knew he'd discovered the useless control panel, "what did you do?" She dropped down, the sparker held tight in her fingers, and raced outside. Anakin's footsteps pounded behind her. "Artemis!"

She jumped onto the speeder he'd left abandoned at the mouth of the shuttle. In half a second, she swiveled around and shot back toward the glowing spire where she knew Obi-Wan was trapped. Hair whipping across her face, Artie risked a glance back and saw Anakin standing where she had been moments before, his eyes burning into her back as she became little more than a speck in the distance. As she flew, Artie let her tears fall and be swept away by the wind.

• • •

ARTIE FOUND THE SPIRE WAS NOT QUITE WHAT SHE HAD EXPECTED. Thinking it a tower, like the one she'd been imprisoned in, she'd expected to climb a hoard of stairs. Upon reaching the spire, however, she realized it was not any structure, but a spike of black rock. She flew to its peak and found it hollowed down to the very base, which bubbled with golden lava and cast looming shadows up and down the onyx walls.

A small, struggling silhouette flickered out of time with the shifting darkness, and Artie knew this must be Obi-Wan, discontent with waiting on the ground. She lowered the speeder level with him and held out a hand.

"Was trying to scale a cliffside necessary?" she chided as he swung himself on the back of the speeder.

"I wasn't certain when you'd get here, or if you'd make it at all," he said. "Come on, we have an idiot to rescue."

Artie glided them out of the volcano, and tried, for the sake of avoiding embarrassment, to keep herself from crumbling into a fit. "Are you sure we can?"

Obi-Wan went quiet for a moment. "No," he said at last. "But we can at least try."

They burst back into the night. Artie pushed the clunky little speeder as hard as it could go, but she had absolutely no destination in mind. "Do you know where they could be?" she yelled over the wind, eyes searing. Steering with one hand, she tried to gather her hair over her shoulder so it wouldn't whip back in Obi-Wan's face.

"Try the monastery!" he shouted back. "And hurry — I've no idea what the Son is planning to do with him."

Artie attempted a reply, but all that came out was a pitiable whimper from the back of her throat. After that, her lips did not part once, not until they came upon the Father's monastery, so dark and shapeless in the night, soared over the same courtyard Anakin had tamed the siblings in, and found the Chosen One sprawled on the ground at the Father's feet.

"Ani!" she yelped. She leaped off the speeder before it had stopped, leaving Obi-Wan to frantically veer it to the ground. Artie, at the moment, didn't care. She loped over to Anakin, who seemed dazed, delirious, and certainly shaken. Her fury and grief roared equal within her, and she seized him by the arms and gave him a hard shake. "What the kriff is your problem?" she bellowed. "What were you thinking? How could you do something like this?"

Anakin blinked. "I . . . I. . . ."

Artie thought about smacking him. But the Father stepped forward. "My Son broke sacred laws to manipulate your friend. He remembers nothing of what has happened, and it is best none of you do."

Artie wanted to argue. She wanted to demand to know what it was that made Anakin betray everything he was supposed to stand for. But something held her back. Something made her balk at the idea of knowing. Artie wanted to be ignorant. She didn't want to be told anything that might make her leave Anakin.

She realized with frigid anxiety that the Father had been exactly right about her.

Artie balled her hands into fists and bowed her head, struggling to think of anything to say. Obi-Wan, meanwhile, hurried to them and asked Anakin, "Are you all right?"

"I think so," Anakin muttered. "This . . . this has to be over. We have to stop the Son once and for all."

"You will get one chance," the Father warned. "My son soon will not be containable."

Artie put a hand on the hilt of her lightsaber; the hair on her arms stood up like someone had whispered unexpectedly in her ear. As if cued, and a looming shadow passed over them all. Artie spun around and found the Son descending upon them, backlit by the pale moon's light. Bitter triumph flickered in his red eyes.

"Ah!" he exclaimed. "My own personal send-off. How quaint." He dropped gracefully down to their level and cast Anakin a wistful look. "So, you've taken back my friend . . ."

"I ask you one last time," the Father said, reaching out for his child. "Do not leave! You needn't do this."

The Son rolled his beady eyes. When he spoke, his voice was soft. "You have no power to keep me here, old man." He spread his arms. "Have you not realized by now? This planet is not my destiny."

His words thrummed through Artie like cannon fire. She used to think the very same thing while rotting on Tatooine. Anakin must have believed something similar, as well. Was that the seed of terrible darkness? The desire to escape lowliness, friendlessness, and pain? Why could these things not simply be the cost and flaws of existence?

"And you would destroy all that is good in the name of destiny?" bellowed the Father. "I beg you -- restrain yourself! Stay!"

The Son's lip curled. "You know I cannot."

The Father bowed his head. "Then I have failed. I held hope that you would turn away from the Dark Side . . . but I see now what you are determined to do. I will not allow you to wreak havoc on innocent lives."

In a blur of black and blue, Anakin unsheathed his saber and swiped at the Son. The latter parried it carelessly with one bare hand, then the other, and snatched Anakin by the neck before he could attempt another blow. The Son raised him high off the ground and flung him across the floor, Anakin and his lightsaber careening in opposite directions.

Obi-Wan and Artie raised their swords and charged. They made it about six feet before the Son waved a hand and lifted their lightsabers right out of their fingers. He tossed them carelessly over his shoulder and sent Artie and Obi-Wan flying backward with little more than a glance.

Adrenaline and pure will got Artie back on her feet. When her vision focused, she found the Father standing before the Son, the tip of a dagger held to his own chest -- the same white dagger that had taken Daughter's life, that Artie had almost killed her friends to get.

Before the Son could react, the Father plunged the blade through his chest with a nauseating squish.

"NO!" The Son leaped forward to hold his father. "Why would you do this! You needn't die, you foolish old man! You mustn't . . . you mustn't leave me!"

"I have — I have not — left you," the Father croaked. "Your power . . . your lifeblood . . . we share . . . your strength runs through me."

Artie didn't understand. It didn't matter. The Son seemed to realize something, but he was too late. A blue lightsaber burst through his back and ran straight through his chest. Anakin glowered behind him, looking every bit a ruthless and cunning killer, and Artie knew this murder he meant.

"You . . ." the Son gaped at his father. "You have . . . betrayed me. . . ."

The Father said nothing, just lowered his child to the floor as he took his last gasping breath. The next moment, he was still, a body just like anyone else. Artie found herself looking away.

Anakin knelt before the Father. "It is done," he said softly.

"Yes," he replied, "and now I . . . will die. My heart broken . . . but knowing the role you — you will play. . . ."

Anakin leaned forward. "And what is it?"

"You . . . are . . . the Chosen One. You have brought balance to this world . . . and so you will do for the galaxy if you stay on this path." The Father winced, squeezed his eyes shut as he grasped at the wound in his chest. "But you must — you must beware . . . your heart."

The Father died beside his son. Both limp and lifeless and small in death. No one spoke, just gathered around the bodies of gods splayed over the constellations carved into the floor. Artie's stare lingered on the Son, the problem child who wished for more than what was given to him. Selfish, discontent, and darkly ambitious, scorned by his own family by the fault of his nature. He was far more human than his kin, and it was this, Artie decided, that doomed him; he felt the blackest parts of humanity and he felt them alone.

Above them, the sky erupted in flame. As far as Artie's eye could follow, blue was ripped apart almost instantly by roaring, golden fire. The next moment, the flame was swallowed by purple, then green, like a supernova imploding before their very eyes, and then all color disappeared under screaming white light. It was so bright Artie couldn't think. She clamped her hands over her eyes and prayed they were not about to witness firsthand what happens when a star dies.

Suddenly, the light dimmed and gave way to quiet darkness. It was warm. Artie sat on something cushioned, something hummed underneath her feet . . . a very familiar voice prodded at the edge of her brain.

"General Skywalker," said Captain Rex. "Sir, it's us. General Skywalker? Do you copy?"

Artie shot awake. She was back inside the shuttle -- what, had she passed out and the others carried her back? Were they still on Mortis? No, it was nothing but endless wild space outside the viewports . . .

Anakin lifted his head groggily and noticed Rex on the hologram transmission. "Yeah, I — I copy, Rex."

"Good, sir. We lost you for a moment there."

Anakin laughed dryly. "Oh, that's funny, Rex. I think it was more than a moment."

Rex tilted his helmeted head. "What are you talking about?"

"You mean . . . you mean you didn't know — you didn't see — " sputtered Anakin, at such a loss he seemed unable to speak. At last, he composed himself. "You know what? It doesn't matter. Rex, this was a false alarm. I decoded the signal again and it's not Jedi. I don't want to waste resources investigating."

"Yes, sir," Rex said. He saluted and his imaged flickered away.

Anakin sat back in his chair. "Maybe let's keep this adventure to ourselves. I don't think I have the capacity to try and explain what we saw."

"I second that," Obi-Wan said thickly, clearly out of sorts.

"Yes," Artie mumbled. Immediately, her dread of sleeping had returned. She finally had a new array of horrors to invade her dreams and keep her awake. Worst of all, the ugliest, most sour parts of herself had been exposed, so she would have things to mull over while nightmares chased away blessed sleep. Artie hoped against hope she would still be able to find solace in Anakin. She wondered how possible it would be if her dreams suddenly became about him, her worst nightmare the image of the Chosen One twisted and made cruel, the opposite of the man she loved so dearly.

Louder than all her racing thoughts was one question, simple and horrifying. The Father had claimed the Son had manipulated Anakin into joining him, and depending on the tactics, Artie could see it happening. But she also knew Anakin, and she knew how stubborn he was, how hard it was to divert him from a course of action. So the question remained —

was Anakin Skywalker's choice to turn to the dark the fault of coercion, or the result of consent?

note.
thank you so much for reading!! if you had a favorite part, comment what it was!!