𝔸𝕞𝕠𝕟𝕘 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕊𝕥𝕒𝕣𝕤 » 𝕆𝕓𝕚-𝕎𝕒𝕟 𝕂𝕖𝕟𝕠𝕓𝕚

Chapter 1

12 BBY

Obi-Wan wakes with a start. He sits up on his elbows and takes deep breaths as his dream world slips away and reality sets in. He is on his cot, safe and sound, not in the nightmare that he can never remember when he awakens. His heart rate starts to slow.

It is the same dream every night, Obi-Wan is sure of it. It wakes him early in the morning with a racing heart and an ache in his gut. If only he could remember what it is he is dreaming about, then maybe he could find the root cause and stop it.

He has a theory. If he can remember correctly, the dreams did not start until after he tried contacting Qui-Gon a week ago. It was the first time he has tried since Master Yoda showed him the way. It took seven years until Obi-Wan finally felt ready to face his late Master. After everything that has happened with his ex-padawan, Obi-Wan couldn't face Qui-Gon with his failure.

Master Yoda was the one to reach out and convince Obi-Wan that he needs to. Seven years is long enough to think about something to say.

Unfortunately, when Obi-Wan tried nothing happened. He reached out to Master Yoda again, and he gave him no solution but continue, you must. Obi-Wan continued trying for a week and still, nothing has happened. Nothing but these dreams that is.

So, until Obi-Wan finally breaks through to the other side of the Force, he will be plagued with dreams he cannot remember.

Obi-Wan sighs and swings his legs over the edge of his cot. He can see streaks of sunlight shining through his windows, and the glow of the purple-red sky indicating early morning. There is something different about today, Obi-Wan can sense it, even when he can't quite make out what it is or where it is coming from. Something is shifting within the Force.

He runs his fingers through his shoulder-length hair and scratches his too scruffy beard. Maybe it's time he cut his hair, it's uncivilized to let it grow so unruly. Obi-Wan found a gray hair last week and it taunted him, reminding him that the rest of his years will be spent in solitude and he will die alone.

His senses must be off today, after all, what could possibly change when one lives hidden away from society?

Why bother with the haircut?

—

"You know that I can help you."

"I'm not involving you."

"You're running out of options, Azelynn."

Azelynn sighs and drops her head into her hands. Arrin is right, it has been two weeks of hitting nothing but dead ends. All she needs is a ship to take her to a nearby system, she doesn't really need a pilot, just a ship. The problem is that her only form of currency is a beat-up, old speeder.

"What if I give you something to use as currency? That wouldn't be involving me," Arrin continues, "and you know I have it."

"I couldn't ask that of you." Azelynn only just bought herself out of slavery, using everything she has ever owned to do it. Arrin is short a few parts before he can buy himself out, and it's more than enough to purchase a ship.

"You're not asking. I'm offering."

"Arrin-"

"Fine," Arrin grumbles and gets up from his chair. "I can't sit back and watch you struggle anymore." He puts on his leather jacket and adjusts the collar around the tips of his dark hair.

"Where are you going?"

"To do something I should've done a long time ago." He turns his back to her and maneuvers himself out of the bar.