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Chapter Text

Anakin threw himself into his training, his mind and body focusing solely on the rhythm of lightsaber practice with the young initiates. He moved through the familiar motions of Shii-Cho, guiding the initiates, giving them pointers, but also learning from them in ways he hadn’t expected. It was as if the weight of the galaxy had been lifted from his shoulders—if only for a few hours a day. In the quiet, structured world of the training room, he could almost forget the chaos outside the Temple walls.

Almost.

But even as he trained and laughed with the initiates, even as he threw himself into meditation and mind-healing sessions with Healer Vokara Che Noska, the shadows still crept in. The news feeds from the Republic, the endless messages from Chancellor Palpatine, and the holocalls from Padmé. He ignored them all, pushing them to the back of his mind, because he couldn’t deal with right now.

For once, he was all right with solitude. He needed space. Space from the upcoming war. Space from the Senate. Space from Padmé.

It wasn’t that he didn’t care. He did. Too much, probably. But every time he thought about going back to her, he felt that familiar pull of something darker—something that made him question his choices, his path. So, instead, he focused on what was right in front of him: the lightsaber in his hand, the feel of the Force guiding him, and the young, eager eyes of the initiates as they watched him move through the forms.

The training helped. It grounded him in the present. But it didn’t quiet the storm completely.

In one of his sessions with Healer Vokara Che, the storm finally broke.

They were sitting in the Temple’s medical wing, the soft hum of the room’s healing equipment buzzing faintly in the background. The lights were dimmed, casting the space in a soft glow that made it feel peaceful—almost serene. Anakin sat on one of the cushioned benches, his posture relaxed but his mind anything but. Vokara Che sat across from him, her calm, analytical gaze watching him closely.

“How are you feeling today, Anakin?” she asked gently, she never pushed for more than Anakin could give her. That’s what made these sessions easier than any conversation he’d had with the Council. Vokara Che wasn’t here to judge him.

Anakin leaned back, letting out a slow breath. “I don’t know,” he admitted, his voice quiet. “Some days I feel fine. Others… I can’t stop thinking about it.”

Vokara Che nodded, her gaze softening slightly. “Thinking about what?”

He hesitated. He wasn’t sure why this was so hard to talk about. He’d faced down a Sith Lord, droids—he’d fought in battles that would leave most people in pieces. But this? Admitting what he felt inside? That was harder than any battle he’d ever fought.

“My dreams,” he finally said, his voice barely above a whisper. “The visions… they’re still there. They always have been.”

Vokara Che didn’t press. She waited, patient and steady, as always.

Anakin swallowed, his hands fidgeting in his lap as he continued. “I see them sometimes, you know? The things I did. The things I almost did.”

“What things?” she asked gently.

He looked down at his hands—one flesh, one metal. His fingers curled into fists as he forced the words out. “When my mother died… after the Tuskens took her. I—” He stopped, his voice catching in his throat, the memories crashing over him like a tidal wave. The heat of the desert. The pain in his mother’s eyes. The rage that had consumed him. “I killed those that tortured her to death. I barely stopped myself when I was done with the men. I wanted to finish the whole group. All of them. Not just the men, but the women… the children.”

His voice was hollow, like he was reciting something from a distant past, but the pain was fresh. Vokara Che watched him closely, her expression never wavering, but there was a deep sadness in her eyes.

“I felt betrayed,” Anakin continued, his jaw tight. “By Obi-Wan. By the Council. By… the Force. I was just a boy when I came to the Temple. And yet, they made me something I never wanted to be. And when I needed them most, they weren’t there. Obi-Wan wasn’t there. He left me alone.” His voice grew harsher, the bitterness seeping through. “He left me.”

His fists clenched tighter, the metal one making a faint creaking sound. “So, I took all of that rage, all of that pain, and I let it out on the Tuskens. I didn’t care if they deserved it. I wanted them to feel what I felt. I wanted them to suffer.”

Vokara Che remained silent, letting him continue.

Anakin’s voice dropped lower, almost a whisper. “I didn’t stop until I… I was about to strike the children.” His throat tightened, and for a moment, he couldn’t speak. “I almost… I almost killed them all.”

He could feel the weight of the words, the memory of that moment pressing down on him. The red haze of rage that had blinded him, the raw pain of his mother’s death. And then, at the very last second, the cold realization of what he was about to do.

“I only stopped because I looked at them, and I saw what I had become. I was no better than the monsters who had taken her from me. And that’s when it hit me.” He let out a bitter laugh, shaking his head. “I would’ve killed innocents, Vokara. I was that close.”

Vokara Che leaned forward slightly, her voice soft but firm. “But you didn’t.”

Anakin looked up at her, confused. “What?”

“You didn’t,” she repeated, her tone unwavering. “You stopped yourself. You didn’t let that darkness consume you.”

He scoffed, the bitterness rising again. “I came so close, though. What does it matter? The damage was done. I killed all those people. I let my anger control me.”

Vokara Che shook her head, her gaze steady. “Anakin, the fact that you stopped at all is wonderous. You were in the grip of unimaginable pain and loss, and yet, you still found the strength to pull yourself back. Most people—most Jedi—wouldn’t have.”

Anakin frowned, he’d never thought of it that way. To him, the massacre had always been a mark of his failure. A moment where he’d lost control, let the darkness in, and almost drowned in it.

“Do you really think that matters?” he asked, his voice quieter now, almost vulnerable.

“Yes,” Vokara Che said without hesitation. “The fact that you stopped yourself—before you harmed the innocent—that shows you are still connected to the light. That’s what makes you different from the Sith. You were able to recognize the horror of your actions, and you chose to stop.”

Anakin blinked, processing her words. He hadn’t thought of it that way. All this time, he had been focused on what he had done, not on what he hadn’t. The fact that he had stopped—that he had pulled back from the edge of the abyss—that did mean something, didn’t it?

He let out a slow breath, feeling a strange sense of relief wash over him. It wasn’t absolution, not by a long shot. But it was something. A small step toward healing.

Vokara Che watched him for a moment, then asked, “Do you still feel betrayed?”

Anakin hesitated, then nodded. “Yeah. I do. By Obi-Wan. By the Council. By the Jedi, even. They’ve never really trusted me. They’ve always kept me at arm’s length, waiting for me to fail.”

“And yet, here you are,” Vokara Che said gently. “Still standing. Still fighting for the light.”

Anakin smiled, though it was small and a little sad. “Yeah. Here I am.”

Anakin leaned back, his arms crossed over his chest as his brow furrowed in thought. The usual confidence that came so easily to him—whether in a cockpit or a battlefield—was nowhere to be found. He had always been good at hiding his emotions, when necessary, but here, in the quiet of the medical wing, with Vokara Che’s steady gaze on him, it felt impossible to do so.

He sighed, rubbing his eyes with the heel of his palm. “It’s hard to explain. But sometimes… sometimes my emotions don’t even feel like my own. Like there’s something else in me, something that takes over.”

Vokara Che tilted her head, her concern barely concealed beneath her calm demeanor. “Takes over? How do you mean, Anakin?”

His frown deepened, frustration tugging at the corners of his mouth. “I don’t know. It’s like I black out. Not completely, but enough that I lose control. I feel… detached, like I’m watching myself from a distance, and someone else is behind the controls. And when I snap back, I’m left dealing with whatever damage was done.”

He stared at the ceiling for a moment, collecting his thoughts. “It’s like… I’m there, but I’m not. The anger takes over, or fear, or something I don’t recognize, and when I come back, I don’t even recognize who I was in that moment. It’s like I was possessed.”

Vokara Che leaned forward slightly, her eyes narrowing in concern. “Have you felt this way before? Can you give me another example?”

Anakin let out a bitter chuckle, shaking his head as if the memories were just too much. “Where do I even start? I mean, I’ve always struggled with attachment—that’s no secret. But it’s never been like this before. It was always different… manageable. I was never really interested in people, not like the other Padawans. Honestly, I was more into fixing things. Machines, droids, podracers—those made sense. People? Not so much.”

He sighed, his frown deepening as his mind drifted to her. “Padmé was different, though. She always felt like something else, you know? Like an angel or a dream. But not romantic. Not back then. She was… an idea, something distant and perfect. Untouchable.” He paused, rubbing the back of his neck. “But lately… I don’t know what’s changed. I’m around her, and suddenly I’m saying things I wouldn’t normally say. I’m flirting without even realizing it. And worse, sometimes… I feel lust.”

Vokara Che raised an eyebrow but kept her expression calm, though Anakin could see the flicker of unease in her eyes. “Lust isn’t unheard of, Anakin. You’re still growing, still coming into your own. It’s natural to experience these feelings.”

Anakin shook his head, though, his frown deepening. “No, you don’t get it. It’s not me. It can’t be me. When I feel it, it’s like… I do not feel lust Vokara! That is not a feeling I am familiar with, nor one I wish to be familiar with. The simple thought of sex disgusts me!”

He shifted uncomfortably, the frustration bubbling up inside him again. “I know what my emotions feel like. I’ve spent my entire life struggling with them, trying to control them. But this? This isn’t me. It’s like something’s crawling around inside my head, making me feel things that aren’t mine. And it’s happening more and more around her.”

Vokara Che’s concern deepened, though she kept her expression neutral. “You’re saying these feelings—this lust—feels foreign to you? As though it’s not your own?”

Anakin nodded, his jaw tight. “Exactly. It’s not mine. I am sure of it. I feel it, and the next moment it’s gone. Like I’m a puppet, and someone else is pulling the strings.”

The healer’s calm, professional demeanor didn’t waver, but Anakin could sense the faint tremor of worry that rippled through her. “And you’re certain these feelings—this presence—only happens around Padmé?”

“For the most part, yeah,” Anakin admitted, running a hand through his hair. “She’s at the center of it, somehow. And it’s not just the normal stuff, like being nervous or flustered. It’s intense. Overwhelming, even. And then, once it’s gone, I feel sick. Like I betrayed myself.”

Vokara Che remained silent for a moment, her mind clearly processing what Anakin had said. This wasn’t just the emotional turmoil of a young Jedi struggling with attachments; this was something deeper. Something darker.

“Anakin,” she said carefully, her voice measured, “have you spoken to anyone else about this? Obi-Wan, perhaps?”

Anakin’s eyes darkened slightly at the mention of his Master’s name, and he shook his head. “No. I can’t. Obi-Wan… He wouldn’t understand. He’d just lecture me about attachments, about the Code. He’d see this as another one of my failures, another sign that I’m not fit to be a Jedi.”

The bitterness in his voice was unmistakable. Obi-Wan had always been a point of contention for Anakin, the figure who was supposed to guide him, but who often felt more like a leash keeping him tethered to the expectations of the Order. And right now, the last thing Anakin wanted was another lecture on how he was failing to live up to those expectations.

“I don’t want to hear another speech about control and serenity,” Anakin continued, his tone sharp. “I need answers. I need to know why this is happening.”

Vokara Che studied him closely, her eyes searching his face for some hint of what was truly going on inside him. She had never seen Anakin like this—so conflicted, so vulnerable. He had always been a force of nature, someone who wore his confidence like armor. But here, in this moment, he was laid bare.

“I can’t say for certain what’s causing these feelings, Anakin,” she said slowly. “But what I can tell you is that recognizing something isn’t right—that’s the first step. The fact that you’re not losing yourself completely, that you’re aware of what’s happening, it's very important.”

Anakin sighed, leaning forward, his elbows resting on his knees. “But it’s not enough. I need to get rid of it. I need to figure out what’s causing it and stop it before… before I do something I can’t take back.”

Vokara Che nodded, her expression thoughtful.

“First of all, I want to assure you of something.” Vokara Che leaned forward, her gaze calm but full of understanding. “Anakin, there’s no shame in being asexual. The Jedi teach us that attachments don’t always have to be romantic. Familial love, the bond between friends, even your connection to the Force itself—these can be just as strong, if not stronger."

Anakin blinked at her, processing her words. The idea of romance had always seemed distant to him, aside from the strange, almost invasive feelings he experienced around Padmé. But love? Love had never been the problem. It was the kind of love that always seemed to be at odds with the Jedi Code. And yet here was Vokara, telling him that his attachments might not be a weakness, but something else entirely.

He rubbed the back of his neck, a little uncomfortable with the vulnerability he’d just revealed. "Yeah, well… the Council doesn’t exactly encourage any attachments, so it’s not like I’ve had much guidance on what’s acceptable."

Vokara Che nodded. "The Council is rigid, yes. But that’s not what we’re focusing on right now. Your emotions—your connection to others—these are what make you strong. If we want to understand this presence that’s troubling you, I think we need to go deeper. May I perform a Force meld with you? To see if I can help you find the root of what’s happening?"

Anakin froze at the suggestion, his heart rate spiking. A Force meld. The last time he’d allowed anyone into his mind like that, it had been Obi-Wan—back when he was a child, fresh from Tatooine, his mind still raw from the trauma of slavery. It had been uncomfortable, vulnerable, but Obi-Wan had guided him through it, careful not to overstep.

This was different. Anakin wasn’t sure he liked the idea of anyone seeing the chaos inside him now. Especially not the parts he wasn’t ready to face himself.

He stared at the floor, weighing his options. "I don’t know…"

Vokara Che, sensing his hesitation, softened her tone. "Anakin, this isn’t an invasion. It’s a way to help you. If you’re not ready, that’s okay. But from what you’ve described, this presence, these feelings—they aren’t just your typical emotional struggles. If there’s something deeper going on, we need to understand it before it takes control."

Anakin’s fists clenched. His mind flashed to the Tuskens—the rage, the slaughter, the terrifying loss of control. He’d sworn to himself it would never happen again. But what if it did? What if next time, there was no stopping it?

With a deep breath, Anakin finally nodded. "Okay. Let’s do it."

Vokara Che gave him a small, reassuring smile. “Close your eyes and focus on your breathing, I’ll do the rest.”

Anakin closed his eyes, letting his breathing slow, feeling the Force hum around him like a gentle current. He felt Vokara Che’s presence reach out, not invasive, but gentle, like a hand brushing through water, asking permission. He opened himself to the connection, allowing her to slip into his mind.

The world around him shifted as her presence moved deeper, sinking into the core of who he was.

Inside, Anakin’s mind was a storm. Bright like a supernova, wild like a maelstrom. Vokara Che navigated the chaos with care, her presence steady as she moved through the flashes of memories, emotions, and thoughts that made up Anakin Skywalker.

She saw flashes of his past—a child on Tatooine, the heat of the twin suns beating down on him as he worked on machines with grim determination, the pain of slavery. There was fear there, the constant, gnawing fear of a life not his own, a life controlled by others.

The memories shifted. The pain of losing his mother hit like a tidal wave—grief so deep it could’ve swallowed him whole. The rage that followed, violent and uncontrollable, as he struck down the Tuskens, his vision red, his heart pounding with fury and hate.

Vokara felt it all—the storm of anger, fear, and grief—but beneath it, there was more. There was love. A quiet, deep love for Obi-Wan, a bond that had been forged over years of loyalty, trust, and hardship. Even in his feelings of betrayal, even in his frustration, there was affection for his Master that could not be denied.

The memories shifted again. He saw Padmé, radiant and poised, standing before him. But it wasn’t romantic love he felt toward her, not at first. It was admiration, respect. She was like an angel—distant, untouchable, a symbol of something pure. Yet, somehow, that feeling had morphed over time, becoming something muddled, something foreign. Anakin felt a deep confusion as he tried to make sense of it.

And then, there was the girl. Snips. His fondness for the young Togruta initiate, so full of fire and spirit, was clear. She reminded him of the best parts of himself—the parts that hadn’t been scarred by hardship and loss. In her, he saw hope, potential. A chance to guide someone the way he wished he had been guided.

But as Vokara Che moved deeper, she felt confusion. The core of the storm. The part of Anakin that didn’t make sense to him—the part that was clouded by an outside presence, something foreign.

At the heart of his being, the storm quieted, and she found him—waiting, watching. Anakin stood there, surrounded by his memories, but calmer now. He was like the eye of the hurricane, standing in the stillness while the chaos raged around him.

“You saw, didn’t you?” Anakin asked, his voice quiet but steady.

Vokara Che nodded, her presence gentle as she stood before him. “I see you clearly now, Anakin. Your mind is powerful, your emotions are intense, but your attachments—they give you strength. Not weakness.”

Anakin frowned, as if trying to process her words. “But the Council… They think attachments will lead me to the dark side. That they’ll corrupt me.”

“The Council fears what they do not understand,” Vokara Che said softly. “Your attachments don’t tempt you to the dark side, Anakin. They tether you to the light. They are what pull you back when you feel yourself slipping.”

She reached out, feeling the foreign presence again—the one that confused him, that clouded his emotions and made him feel as though he wasn’t himself. It was dark, yes, but not overpowering. It slithered at the edges of his mind, whispering doubts, amplifying feelings that weren’t his own.

“This presence,” Vokara Che said, her voice tinged with concern, “it’s not you, Anakin. But it’s feeding off your fears, your uncertainties. You’ve been carrying this presence without realizing it.”

Anakin’s brow furrowed, his jaw tightening. “What is it?”

Vokara Che hesitated.  “I’m not certain yet. But it’s clear that it’s been trying to take root in you.” The healer’s gaze softened. “You need to understand, that this presence—whatever it is—it’s drawn to your strength, Anakin. But you are stronger than it.”

He looked at her, uncertainty clouding his expression. “How can you be so sure?”

She smiled gently. “Because you stopped yourself with the Tuskens. Because even when you feel lost, you always find your way back. You may not see it, but you’re not as close to the darkness as you think.”

For a moment, Anakin just stood there, letting her words sink in. The chaos around them quieted, the storm subsided as he processed everything, she had shown him, everything she had said. He thought about his mother, Shmi. Her death had been a deep wound, one that still throbbed with pain whenever he let himself dwell on it.

But lately, as much as it hurt to lose her, he had started to see her passing differently. It wasn’t just a loss. It was… relief. Freedom, in a way. The chains of slavery that had bound her for so long were finally broken, and she was at peace in the Force.

It had taken him a long time to accept that.

“I guess…” Anakin began, his voice low, as he spoke aloud to Vokara, still feeling the weight of the meld, “I guess I’ve found some comfort in knowing that she’s free. Free in a way she never could’ve been in life. I wasn’t there to save her, but she’s not suffering anymore. Maybe that’s the only mercy we ever got.”

Vokara Che, standing calmly across from him, nodded slightly, her expression thoughtful. “Freedom comes in many forms, Anakin. Even in death, there can be peace. But it’s important to remember that her bond with you still exists, even though she’s one with the Force.”

Anakin gave a small, tired smile. “Yeah. I can feel that. It’s different, but it’s there.”

Vokara Che watched him for a moment, sensing the shift in his emotions. “Let’s take this further. Focus on the bonds you have in the Force. The connections you feel with those closest to you. Bring them forward and let’s examine them.”

Anakin nodded, closing his eyes again and reaching out into the vast, swirling energy of the Force. He had always felt his bonds intensely—his connections with others ran deep, often deeper than he understood himself. He let his awareness expand, reaching for the threads that connected him to the people who mattered most.

As the bonds came into focus, a sense of warmth and comfort settled over him. There weren’t many bonds—only a few—but they glowed brightly in his mind, like anchors amidst the turbulence of the galaxy.

The first bond that came forward was his connection with Obi-Wan. It was the brightest, burning with a steady, warm glow. In his mind, it was like a sun, constant and reliable, even when their relationship strained. Obi-Wan had been his guide, his teacher, his brother. Despite all their differences, their frustrations with one another, the bond they shared was unbreakable. It was one of the few things in his life that truly grounded him.

But there were others around Obi-Wan, smaller, reflecting the light of that bond like moons orbiting a star. Aayla Secura, with her sharp intellect and steady presence; Quinlan Vos, whose easygoing nature had somehow become a strange source of comfort; and then there was Snips, who had wormed her way into his heart with her defiance and determination. 

Vokara Che spoke softly, sensing the comfort Anakin felt. “These bonds are strong, Anakin. You find peace in them.”

He nodded, his voice quiet but sure. “Yeah. They keep me grounded. They make me feel like… like I’m part of something bigger. Like I’m not alone in all of this.”

But as comforting as those bonds were, there were others. Vokara urged him to focus deeper, and two more came into view, flickering at the edges of his awareness. Bonds he has formed with not Force-sensitive people.

The first was with someone who had already become one with the Force—a presence that was faint but still there. It was different from the others, more like an echo than a bond. It reminded him of his mother. He felt a pang of sadness as he recognized the feeling—the connection with someone lost. But it wasn’t a connection filled with regret. It was peaceful, like a parting that had happened exactly as it was meant to.

The second bond, however, was with her—Padmé Amidala.

Anakin felt his chest tighten as the bond with Padmé flickered into view, glowing with a soft, radiant light. It was built on admiration and friendship, the connection they had shared since he was a child. She had always been his ideal—noble, compassionate, unshakably strong. 

As he examined it now, though, he felt something else lurking beneath the surface. It was subtle, almost hidden, but there was something… off about it. An undercurrent of something foreign. Not from Padmé herself, but from somewhere else—an intrusion that twisted the bond ever so slightly.

Vokara Che remained silent for a moment, letting Anakin explore the bond on his own. She could sense the disturbance as well, but she wanted him to recognize it first.

“What is it?” she asked finally, her voice calm, guiding.

Anakin frowned, focusing on the bond. “It’s her… but it’s not. I mean, I can feel her. She’s there, like she always has been. But there’s something else. Something I don’t recognize.” He struggled to find the words, feeling a growing discomfort in his chest. “I don’t know how to explain it. It’s like… part of this bond doesn’t belong to me. Like it’s not mine to feel.”

Vokara Che watched him closely, her mind piecing together what she was sensing. “This bond with Padmé—it’s based on friendship and admiration, yes. But you said earlier that lately, you’ve been experiencing feelings that don’t seem like your own. Lust, obsession. Do you think this presence is influencing this bond?”

Anakin’s jaw clenched as the realization sank in. “Yeah. That’s exactly what it feels like.” He opened his eyes, staring at the ground as the weight of it all settled on him. “There’s something… there. It’s pushing feelings on me, emotions that I wouldn’t normally have. And they’re wrapped up in this connection with her.”

Anakin’s eyes stayed locked on the bond with Padmé, a knot tightening in his gut with each passing second. He could feel it—could sense it—something wasn’t right. It was a feeling he couldn’t shake, no matter how hard he tried to shove it down and pretend like everything was fine. Because it wasn’t fine. It hadn’t been fine in a long time.

Vokara Che’s voice broke through the whirlwind of his thoughts, her tone calm but carrying a weight he didn’t like. “Anakin,” she said, standing still, hands folded in front of her like she was trying to figure out how deep to dig into this mess. “I would like to continue the investigation... but alone.”

Alone.

His first instinct was to snap back with a sarcastic remark, to keep her out, to bury everything under layers of snark and bravado. But the look in her eyes stopped him cold. His gaze drifted back to Padmé’s bond, that shining connection flickering with more than just friendship. He felt the familiar sting of fear creeping up his spine, threatening to choke him out. He gritted his teeth, fighting back the instinct to pull away, to snap at her for even suggesting it.

But despite the fear gnawing at him, he pushed it down. It wasn’t like he hadn’t faced worse, right? How many battles had he charged into, lightsaber blazing, without a second thought? And now here he was, hesitating like a skittish tooka over some healer trying to help him.

“Fine,” he whispered, the word leaving his lips before he could second-guess it. He nodded at Vokara, forcing his muscles to relax, even though every nerve in his body screamed to bolt. “Do what you gotta do.”

She nodded, calm as ever, but he could sense the way her mind shifted, more focused now, diving deeper into his consciousness. Anakin gasped slightly as he opened his eyes and returned his consciousness back to his body. Back into the healing chamber, feeling the strange sensation of Vokara’s presence still tethered to his thoughts. It wasn’t exactly unpleasant, but it wasn’t comfortable either. 

He paced the room, the air heavy with the stale smell of incense and sterile medical supplies and tried to shake the feeling of being dissected. Vokara sat in the corner, her eyes still closed, her brow furrowed in concentration. It was a little unsettling seeing her like that—so deep in his core, picking through memories and emotions he’d rather forget. He ran a hand through his hair and tried not to let it get to him. It was just another mission, he told himself. Just another test. He’d come through it like he always did.

He spotted a cup of tea on the small table next to him, probably left behind by one of the temple attendants. It was still warm, steam curling lazily from the rim. Tea was something Obi-Wan would drink when he was stressed, and for a moment, Anakin allowed himself the small comfort of it. He picked up the cup and took a sip, trying to ground himself in the present. Maybe if he could focus on something normal, something mundane, it would distract him from the storm brewing in his mind.

The taste of the tea was unfamiliar but soothing, he let himself savor it, even if just for a second. But as he brought the cup to his lips again, his grip faltered. It slipped from his mechanical hand, shattering on the floor with a sharp, echoing crack.

Anakin flinched, his hand instinctively going to his chest as a sudden pain gripped him. Not physical pain—no, this was something deeper, like a tether snapping loose inside him. He gasped, his eyes widening as the sensation rushed over him. It was as if something had broken free, a weight that had been crushing him for years suddenly lifted. The constant pressure—the fear, the doubt, the obsession—it all seemed to dissipate in an instant, leaving behind a strange clarity.

He blinked, his mind suddenly sharp, his vision clearer than it had been in what felt like ages. The knot in his chest was gone, replaced by a lightness he hadn’t felt since... he couldn’t even remember when. He could see the world with new eyes, unclouded by the constant storm of emotions that had been plaguing him for so long.

Behind him, Vokara gasped, her eyes snapping open. Anakin turned to face her, startled by the expression on her face. The healer, usually composed and steady as a rock, looked... shaken. Wild. Her eyes were wide, her breathing uneven, like she had just pulled herself out of the middle of a battlefield.

“What did you do?” Anakin asked, his voice tight. He could still feel the lingering sensation of something shifting inside him, but he wasn’t sure if it was a good thing or not. “What the kriff did you do?”

Vokara didn’t answer right away. She was still catching her breath, trying to collect herself. For a moment, she looked as though she wasn’t even in the same room, her mind still connected to whatever it was she had uncovered in his head.

“I need to confer with the Jedi Council,” she said, her voice steady but carrying an edge of urgency that hadn’t been there before.

Anakin blinked, confusion slicing through the calm that had settled over him. “The Council? What—why?” Tthe unease creeping back into his mind like an unwelcome visitor. “What did you see?”

Vokara didn’t meet his eyes, which only made the pit in his stomach twist tighter. She had always met his eyes before. He didn’t like this, not one bit.

“I need to speak to them,” she repeated, her tone leaving no room for argument. “There are things we need to discuss. About your bonds. About—” She stopped herself, biting her lip. Anakin could feel her hesitation, like she was holding back something important.

“What things?” Anakin snapped, his irritation rising like a wave. “You can’t just go digging around in my head, freak out, and then run off to the Council without telling me what’s going on!”

She flinched at his words, just slightly, but enough for him to notice. That wasn’t a good sign. That was the opposite of a good sign.

But before he could push her further, before he could demand the answers that were clawing at the back of his mind, the Force whispered to him. A quiet, insistent pull, urging him to stop. To let it go. To trust. It was the last thing he wanted to do, but the feeling was undeniable, like an invisible hand guiding him back from the edge.

He swallowed hard, his fists clenching and unclenching as he fought to keep his emotions in check. Every instinct in his body told him to press harder, to force the truth out of her if he had to. But that whisper in the Force... it was stronger than his anger, stronger than his fear.

So, he stayed silent. For once in his life, he stayed silent and let the moment pass.

He looked down at the shattered cup again. The tea had soaked into the cracks of the floor, and the pieces glinted in the dim light like shards of some forgotten relic. Anakin sighed, crouching down to pick them up, trying to focus on the simple task. Anything to take his mind off the uncertainty swirling around him.

But as he picked up one of the larger pieces, his chest twinged again, like a knot untangling. The sensation was strange—almost freeing, but it left him disoriented. Something had shifted in him, something deep.

Anakin stood there for a moment, cradling the broken pieces of the tea cup in his hand. The smooth ceramic edges bit into his palm, but he barely felt it. He stared down at them like they were pieces of his mind, shattered and scattered, waiting for him to pick them up and make sense of the mess inside.

“Alright, let’s all take a breather and calm down,” he muttered to himself, trying to keep a lid on the frustration that had been bubbling under the surface for far too long. He set the broken cup aside, his hand twitching with the effort of restraint. “So, what’s going on, Vokara? You looked like you saw a ghost before. What did you find?”

Vokara Che stood across from him, her hands folded in front of her in that classic Jedi pose that screamed composure. She had the whole serene act down to a science. But Anakin could see past it. He wasn’t an idiot, and the Force wasn’t exactly subtle when it came to people’s feelings. He could sense her unease, like a ripple in a still pond. Whatever she’d found had her rattled, no matter how well she was trying to hide it.

“I discovered the presence that’s been interfering with your bond.” Finally, she spoke, her voice measured as ever. “As we’ve discussed, this is not just a manifestation of your own emotions, Anakin. This is external. Something—or someone—has been influencing you. Feeding off your bond with Padmé and distorting it.”

Anakin’s stomach dropped. He’d known something was wrong, sure, but he hadn’t expected this. “What do you mean ‘someone’?” he asked, his voice low, almost daring her to say the wrong thing.

Vokara exhaled softly, her eyes flickering with something he couldn’t quite place. Pity? Concern? Fear? Whatever it was, it made him want to punch a wall. “It’s intelligent, manipulative. And it’s latched onto you through your connection with Padmé. This presence is amplifying emotions that aren’t yours, pushing you toward feelings of lust and obsession, clouding your judgment.”

Anakin felt his chest tighten, a sickening feeling creeping through him. His connection with Padmé, his dear friend, was being tampered with. Twisted. He wanted to throw something—anything—just to vent the frustration that suddenly flared inside him.

“Great,” he said bitterly, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “So, what, I’ve had some kind of parasite in my head this whole time, screwing with my feelings for Padmé?”

Vokara didn’t flinch at his tone, but he could tell she wasn’t thrilled about delivering this news.

“So,” he continued, quieter now but no less tense, “what now? What do I do?”

Vokara stepped closer, her voice gentler this time, but with an urgency that hadn’t been there before. “I need you to trust me, Anakin. I know your relationship with the Jedi Council is… strained, at best. But trust me. Even if they don’t work with me, I will go after whoever did this on my own and make them pay.”

Anakin’s eyes narrowed, suspicion and anger flaring up again. “Him? You know who did this?”

Vokara opened her mouth to respond, but before she could speak, the Force screamed at Anakin like a warning bell, so loud and clear it stopped him dead in his tracks. He raised his hand, cutting her off. “Stop.”

She froze, watching him with wide eyes.

“The Force is telling me I don’t need to know,” Anakin said firmly, if a bit reluctant. “You already got rid of the influence, and that’s all I care about. No more foreign meddling with my emotions. That’s enough for now.”

Vokara blinked, clearly taken aback. She had expected a fight—Force, Anakin usually thrived on pushing back against authority, especially when it came to the Jedi Council. But this time, he wasn’t fighting.

“I’ll leave the rest in your hands,” he continued, his voice low but resolved. “What kind of hypocrite would I be if I scold the Council for ignoring the will of the Force, only to do the same thing myself?”

Vokara stared at him, and for a moment, the usual healer’s calm broke through, a flicker of genuine surprise crossing her face. Then, slowly, she nodded, a look of respect crossing her features. “I understand. Thank you, Anakin.”

Anakin inclined his head slightly, not bothering with any more words. He’d said what needed to be said, and frankly, he was done with all the talking for now. He gave her a curt nod of goodbye and watched as she left the chamber, heading off to confer with the Jedi Council. Hopefully, they’d take her seriously. Not that Anakin had much faith in their ability to listen to anyone who wasn’t Yoda or Obi-Wan.

Once the door slid shut, the silence of the room pressed in around him. He let out a breath he didn’t even realize he’d been holding, then turned to leave the Healers’ Wing. He needed air, needed space, needed out of this place before his head exploded from all the chaos swirling around inside it.

He made his way toward the Crucible, his steps felt heavier than usual, but his mind... his mind was strangely clear. That weight, the pressure that had been gnawing at him for so long, was finally gone. For the first time in forever, he felt like he could actually breathe.

As he approached the ship, he spotted Quinlan Vos lounging against the loading ramp, looking every bit the cocky, carefree Jedi who didn’t give a damn about formality. Typical Vos.

“Took you long enough,” Quinlan called out, a smirk tugging at his lips. “Thought maybe the healers had decided to keep you in there permanently. Figured the galaxy could use a little less of Skywalker’s attitude, huh?”

Anakin shot him a glare, but there wasn’t much heat behind it. Not today. “You’re hilarious, Vos. Really. You should take that act on tour.”

Quinlan just shrugged, not missing a beat. “I know. I’ve got a gift.” Then he jerked his thumb toward the ship. “The inititates are inside. They’ve been asking for you.”

At the mention of the initiates, a wave of warmth washed over Anakin, softening the tension in his chest. He rolled his shoulders, stepping up the ramp and into the Crucible. Sure enough, a cluster of familiar initiates were gathered around a holochess table, their faces lighting up when they saw him.

“Are you ready for The Gathering?” Anakin called out with a huge smile on his face, one that was mirrored by the cheering initiates. “Then, get to your stations! We leave in five!”

The initiates rushed to their posts, as the old Republic shuttle hummed with a low, familiar vibration as it glided through hyperspace. Anakin leaned back in his seat, arms crossed, watching the group of eager young initiates bounce around the ship, full of nervous energy. The trip to Ilum was an exciting one for them—their chance to find their kyber crystals, to build their first lightsabers. To them, it was a rite of passage, a monumental step toward becoming Jedi.

Anakin had assumed he was just another chaperone, there to keep the initiates in line while they went through their trials. But Quinlan Vos had, of course, thrown a spanner into that plan. “You’re not just here to chaperone.” The Jedi Master turned to the blond padawan with a smirk.

Anakin glanced over at him, raising an eyebrow. “Oh? I’m not?”

“Nope.” Quinlan stretched lazily, clearly enjoying the way Anakin was glaring at him. “You’re joining the initiates.”

Anakin stared at him, mouth slightly open. “What?”

“You heard me,” Quinlan said, eyes twinkling with amusement. “You’re going in with them.”

Anakin huffed, sitting up straighter in his seat, his eyes narrowing. “I’m not a kid anymore, Vos. I’ve got a perfectly good lightsaber. This is a waste of time.”

Quinlan raised an eyebrow. “Does it feel like it’s yours? You know… after losing your hand.”

Anakin opened his mouth to argue, but then he paused. Did his lightsaber feel like his own since his duel with Dooku? Since he’d lost his hand, the lightsaber hadn’t quite felt the same. He hadn’t thought much of it—just figured it was something he had to adjust to. But Quinlan’s question made him hesitate, his brow furrowing.

“… No,” he admitted reluctantly. “It doesn’t feel right.”

Quinlan shrugged, as if that confirmed everything he’d already suspected. “Then you’re coming with us. You need to find your crystal again. Reconnect with the Force. Your bond with the saber was severed when you lost your hand. Time to make it whole again.”

Anakin groaned, dragging a hand down his face. “I swear, you and Obi-Wan are both way too good at dragging me into things I don’t want to do.”

“You love it,” Quinlan said, his grin infuriatingly wide. “Now get ready. The kids are already betting on who’ll find their crystal first, and if I were you, I wouldn’t let them show you up.”

Anakin shot Quinlan a look but stood up, begrudgingly heading toward the back of the ship where the initiates were gathered. As he approached, one of the teenagers—Snips, of course—caught sight of him and grinned mischievously.

“Hey, Skyguy!” she called, her voice filled with that typical, irreverent confidence that Anakin couldn’t help but admire. “Wanna race to the cave? Bet you can’t keep up with us.”

Anakin smirked, his mood lifting just a little despite himself. “Oh, is that a challenge?”

The initiates grinned, clearly excited to get the chance to compete with the infamous Anakin Skywalker. “Yeah, it is,” Snips said, her eyes gleaming. “Unless you’re too slow.”

Anakin chuckled, rolling his shoulders as if loosening up. “Slow? I could lap you three times before you even hit the cave entrance.”

The initiates burst into laughter, already starting to shuffle toward the ship’s exit as the Crucible began to land. They were eager to get going, and their energy was infectious. Anakin’s earlier annoyance began to melt away, and by the time the ship touched down on Ilum’s frozen surface, he was already feeling more like himself.

As soon as the doors slid open, the initiates darted out into the snow, their shouts of excitement echoing through the icy air. Anakin followed, his boots crunching in the snow as he broke into a sprint after them. The cold wind bit his face, but it only fueled his competitive spirit. He wasn’t about to let a group of younglings beat him to the cave. Quinlan was right—he wasn’t about to get shown up by a bunch of teenagers.

He reached the cave just behind Snips, the Togruta girl throwing him a triumphant grin as she caught her breath. Anakin slowed to a stop beside her, feigning disappointment. “Alright, alright. You got lucky.”

“Lucky?” Snips laughed, her breath visible in the frigid air. “You’re getting slow, Skyguy.”

Anakin smirked, ruffling her head tails playfully. “We’ll see about that next time.”

As the rest of the initiates caught up, Quinlan led the group into the entrance. Anakin followed, feeling the familiar chill of the Force that always seemed to linger in the caverns of Ilum. The walls glistened with ice, and the air inside was sharp, filled with an ancient stillness. He let the Force guide his steps as he moved deeper into the cave, the energy pulling him in a direction all his own.

The initiates began to scatter, each following the Force to their own crystals. Anakin kept walking, moving further into the depths of the cave until he found himself in a large, open chamber. Glaciers lined the walls, massive and imposing, but it wasn’t the size of the room that caught his attention.

It was the reflections.

The glaciers acted like mirrors, casting back his image in strange, fragmented ways. But they weren’t all him. Each reflection was different—slightly altered versions of himself. One reflection showed him in the royal garb of Naboo, regal and dignified, though it felt unfamiliar. Another showed him in a flight suit, his face more carefree, as if that version of him had never been burdened by the expectations of the Jedi.

Then came a reflection that sent a shiver down his spine: a version of himself clad in black armor, the weight of it suffocating. The mask was stern, cold, with an intensity that unsettled him. And besides that, a reflection of him in traditional Jedi robes, though this version looked older, more worn, his eyes carrying the burden of too many battles fought and lost.

Anakin stared, confusion creeping in. What was this? Some kind of test? A vision? And then, a familiar laugh echoed through the chamber, startling him. Anakin whipped around, eyes wide as he spotted the source of the laughter.

Qui-Gon Jinn.

There, standing casually like this was the most normal thing in the galaxy, was Qui-Gon Jinn. The same easy smile, the same kind eyes, the same relaxed posture as if he hadn’t been gone for over a decade. Qui-Gon looked exactly like he had the last time Anakin had seen him—before everything had gone to hell, before war, before politics, before destiny had tied Anakin’s life into a thousand knots.

“Qui-Gon?” Anakin blurted out, his voice filled with shock.

“Congratulations,” Qui-Gon said, grinning as if nothing was out of place. “It looks like you’ve finally managed to wake up the Jedi Council.”

Anakin blinked at him, completely caught off guard. His brain took a second to catch up with what he was seeing, and even then, he wasn’t sure if this was some kind of mind trick or the Force playing another game with him. "What—how are you here?" His voice was sharp with disbelief. He looked from Qui-Gon to the reflections on the glaciers and back to Qui-Gon again, his head spinning.

“This isn’t one of those weird Ilum trials, is it?” Anakin asked, crossing his arms as he stared the apparition down. "I mean, I’m all for a good vision quest, but this is a bit much, even for a Jedi ice cave.”

Qui-Gon’s laugh was deep and warm, just as Anakin remembered, which only made the whole thing more surreal. “No, Anakin. This is no test. You’re not imagining me.”

Anakin’s eyes narrowed, clearly skeptical. “Right. So, what—you just decided to pop in from the great beyond for a little chat? Because that’s not weird at all.”

Qui-Gon’s smile widened as if amused by Anakin’s sarcasm, which, let’s be honest, was rare. His sarcasm normally exasperated people. “You always did have a sharp tongue, Anakin. But no, I’m not a test from the Force, though you’ve faced quite a few of those recently.”

“Okay, but that still doesn’t explain how you’re standing here,” Anakin said, gesturing at Qui-Gon like he was trying to make sense of it with his hands. “Last I checked, when people die, they usually stay that way.”

“That’s true,” Qui-Gon said, nodding, “for most people.”

Anakin huffed, his confusion building. “Right. ‘Most people.’ You’ve been dead for years, Qui-Gon. I’m really gonna need you to start making sense.”

Qui-Gon, ever patient, clasped his hands behind his back and took a step forward, his presence so serene it was almost annoying. “You’re right about one thing: the Force doesn’t follow the rules of mortals. It’s not bound by time, space, or even life and death. The Force is all-encompassing, Anakin. It’s everywhere, in everything. Light, dark, past, future—it’s all one.”

Anakin stared at him, his mouth slightly open. "You're saying there's no light or dark? No time, no space? That’s… That’s crazy."

Qui-Gon raised an eyebrow. “Is it? Think about it. The Jedi and Sith—mortals—see the Force through the lens of their own limited experiences, their own need for order or control. But the Force itself? It doesn’t concern itself with such things. It simply is. When you’re connected to it fully, as I am, you see things differently.”

Anakin’s gaze flickered, his mind racing. “So… you became one with the Force. You didn’t just… disappear?”

Qui-Gon nodded, his expression serious now. “Yes. I learned to merge with the Force, to let go of my physical form without losing my awareness. It’s how I’m able to manifest now.”

Anakin stared at him, the realization dawning on him. “You’re a Force ghost?”

Qui-Gon chuckled at the term, the warmth in his voice unmistakable. “Something like that. It’s not exactly the same as being alive, but I can still exist in this form, thanks to my connection with the Force.”

Anakin ran a hand through his hair, his mind spinning with questions. “Okay, hold up. Everyone returns to the Force when they die, right? So why aren’t all Jedi walking around as Force ghosts? Why you?”

Qui-Gon’s smile faded slightly, his tone becoming more contemplative. “It’s not so simple, Anakin. Returning to the Force is one thing. Retaining your individuality after death is something else entirely. It requires letting go of everything—fear, attachment, ego—everything that binds you to the physical world.”

“Letting go of attachments?” Anakin repeated, a familiar frustration creeping into his voice. “Right. The Jedi’s favorite lesson. Just when I thought I’d heard enough lectures about that.”

Qui-Gon didn’t rise to the bait, he simply gave Anakin a knowing look. “It’s not what you think, Anakin. Letting go doesn’t mean abandoning love or connection. It means understanding that everything—every bond, every moment—is a part of the Force. It’s not about losing those connections. It’s about becoming one with them. The Force was never about isolation, but about unity.”

Anakin paused, his brow furrowing as he tried to wrap his mind around it. “So... you’re saying I don’t have to cut people off to follow the Jedi way?”

Qui-Gon shook his head gently. “Not at all. Your bonds, your attachments—they give you strength, Anakin. But it’s how you approach them that matters. You must understand that they are a part of the greater whole, not something you possess. Love and connection aren’t chains, unless you make them so.”

Anakin blinked, taking in Qui-Gon’s words. It was such a different message from the one he had always heard from the Council. They were always preaching about avoiding attachments, severing ties, fearing the darkness that came from love or passion. And yet here was Qui-Gon, standing before him, telling him the exact opposite. 

“That’s a lot to think about,” Anakin muttered, his voice quieter now, as if he didn’t want to admit how much Qui-Gon’s words had gotten to him.

Qui-Gon’s smile returned, but it was softer this time, almost sad. “I know it is. But you’ve always been strong, Anakin. Stronger than most. You’ve seen the galaxy from both its brightest heights and its darkest depths. That gives you a perspective few others have.”

Anakin let out a slow breath, his eyes drifting back to the reflections in the glaciers. Anakin stared at the glacier reflections of himself—so many versions, so many possibilities, each one like a phantom of who he could’ve been or might still become.

His gaze drifted over the images: one wearing royal Naboo garb, regal and distant; another in the familiar robes of a Jedi, but older, heavier with the burden of leadership. And then, the one that unsettled him the most—himself, but cloaked in black armor, cold and detached, a dangerous glint in his eyes.

It was the dark future, the one that whispered to him in his lowest moments. A version of himself that had given in to fear, the anger, the temptation of power. Anakin had always fought against it, but seeing it here, reflected back at him so clearly, made it real in a way it hadn’t been before.

“What do they mean?” he asked, not looking away from the reflections. His voice was quieter now, less sharp than usual, but laced with curiosity and uncertainty.

Qui-Gon’s voice floated through the chamber, calm and wise, as if he had all the time in the galaxy to explain the mysteries of the Force. “Life, Anakin, is like a tree. Each choice we make, each action we take, is a branch. The tree grows, it changes, and with every decision, new branches sprout. Each one is a possible future, and for a time, all of these futures exist simultaneously.”

Anakin frowned, trying to wrap his head around the idea. “So, these reflections… they’re all different futures? Paths I could’ve taken?”

“Exactly,” Qui-Gon replied, stepping closer, his presence serene. “Some of those branches disappear with the choices you make. They wither, and new paths emerge. But every action, every choice, leaves a mark. And sometimes, those marks stay with us, even after we’ve made our decision.”

Anakin’s eyes drifted back to the reflections, his mind piecing it together. “Then… these are the futures I saw when I was in the coma,” Anakin murmured, understanding dawning on him. “I do not recall anything that happened while I was at the coma. But somehow, when I fought Dooku, I must have glimpsed these possible paths. And… they left a mark on me.”

Qui-Gon nodded. “Yes. That moment was pivotal. The futures you saw shaped you, even after you awoke. That’s why you came out of the coma more collected, more… balanced. You had seen what could be, and it changed you.”

Anakin stopped in front of the reflection of himself in black armor, his gaze locking onto the cold, emotionless version staring back at him. This was the future that scared him the most—the one where he gave in. Where the rage consumed him. Where the things he cared about, the people he loved, didn’t matter anymore.

He reached into his belt, pulling out the blue kyber crystal from his lightsaber. The crystal caught the light from the glaciers, its blue glow familiar and reassuring. But something inside him told him that the crystal was missing something.

Without a word, Anakin held the crystal out toward his dark reflection. The reflection mirrored him, pulling out a red kyber crystal—vivid, angry, like a wound that had never healed. Then, slowly, the crystals began to move toward each other, almost as if the Force itself was guiding them. The blue of Anakin’s crystal and the red of his reflection’s crystal met in the space between them, and as they touched, something incredible happened.

The two crystals started to merge, their colors swirling together like oil on water. The red bled into the blue, but instead of tainting it, the blue seemed to purify the red. The colors spiraled, swirling faster and faster, until both hues disappeared altogether, leaving a single, brilliant white kyber crystal.

Anakin stared at the crystal in his hand, his breath catching in his throat. The white glow was soft but powerful, and it felt… right. For the first time since he had fought Dooku, the crystal felt like it belonged to him. 

“That’s why it didn't felt like mine,” Anakin whispered, his voice filled with realization. “The crystal… it went through all those possible futures with me. It saw what could have happened if I’d fallen to the dark side. It turned red, then blue, because I never fully fell.”

“You didn’t,” Qui-Gon confirmed, his voice gentle. “But the crystal carried the weight of those possible futures. It became clouded, unsure, just as you were. That’s why you had to come here. You needed to purify it, to cleanse it of the darkness it had absorbed.”

Anakin’s grip tightened on the white kyber crystal, the glow filling the chamber with its soft light. The reflections on the glaciers began to fade, dissolving into the ice as the last remnants of those possible futures disappeared. Only the white light remained, clear and unwavering.

He turned to Qui-Gon, a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “You’re really good at this whole ‘Force ghost’ thing, you know that?”

Qui-Gon chuckled, the sound warm and reassuring. “I do my best.”

But then, his expression softened, and he looked at Anakin with a kind of pride that made something tighten in Anakin’s chest. “Anakin, you’ve come a long way. You’ve been tested more than most, and yet you continue to stand in the light. Your path has been difficult, but you’ve never given up. I’m proud of you.”

Anakin blinked, caught off guard by the raw sincerity in Qui-Gon’s voice. He had never really thought of himself that way—always focusing on what he hadn’t done, the ways he’d failed, the mistakes he couldn’t undo. Hearing Qui-Gon say he was proud of him… it hit him harder than he expected.

Qui-Gon took a step closer, his gaze filled with something deeper now. “When you see Obi-Wan again, tell him… tell him I’m sorry for failing as his master. But also tell him that I’m proud of the Jedi he has become. And of the Jedi you have become.”

Anakin swallowed, his throat tight. “I will.”

For a moment, they stood there in silence, the light of the white crystal reflecting off the icy walls around them. Then, slowly, Qui-Gon’s form began to fade, the Force calling him back to wherever it was that Force ghosts went when they weren’t popping in to give existential advice.

Anakin watched as Qui-Gon disappeared, feeling a strange mix of emotions—grief, pride, relief—all swirling together inside him. But there was no more confusion. He knew what he had to do now.

The light of the white kyber crystal pulsed gently in his hand, and Anakin smiled, feeling a sense of peace settle over him.

“Thanks, Qui-Gon,” he murmured, his voice soft. “For everything.”

He turned to leave the cave, the reflections gone and the future clear, and as he stepped out of the cave and back into the cold, crisp air of Ilum, he knew exactly who he was.

He knew what he was meant to do.

He was Anakin Skywalker, and he wasn’t going to let the dark side win.

Chapter Text

Hey, everyone! 😊

I’m thrilled to announce that Part III of the Branching Out series is now live, and it’s called The Green Bead! 🎉 I can’t wait for you all to read this next chapter of the story. I hope you enjoy this part as much as the previous one. Thank you for all your support and for coming along for the ride!

Happy reading!

Chapter Text

Hey, everyone! 😊

I’m thrilled to announce that Part IV of the Branching Out series is now live, and it’s called The Yellow Path! 🎉 I can’t wait for you all to read this next chapter of the story. I hope you enjoy this part as much as the previous one. Thank you for all your support and for coming along for the ride!

Happy reading!

Chapter Text

Hey, everyone! 😊

I'm thrilled to announce that Part V of the Branching Out series is now live, and it's called The Red Mission! 🎉 I can't wait for you all to read this next chapter of the story. I hope you enjoy this part as much as the previous one. Thank you for all your support and for coming along for the ride!

Happy reading!

Chapter Text

Hey, everyone! 😊

I'm thrilled to announce that Part VI of the Branching Out series is now live, and it's called The Purple Circle! 🎉 I can't wait for you all to read this next chapter of the story. I hope you enjoy this part as much as the previous one. Thank you for all your support and for coming along for the ride!

Happy reading!