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"We were born and bred in violence. We found love amidst a raging battle. We turned into a man during a war. And I. I became a monster in my attempts to end it."
"What?" Anakin muttered, looking around in confusion.
He was in the Council chambers. At night.
It should have been early in the morning. And the room shouldn't have looked like someone had used it for target practice.
The marble floors were covered in carbon burns and corpses. Tiny corpses. With dawning horror, Anakin turned around slowly, taking the sight around him.
Younglings - younglings, most of whom he knew and had spent hours teaching meditation and katas to - all lying dead at his feet.
Severed in half, cut down by a lightsaber in their own home. In what was supposed to be the safest place where they could find solace.
"You need to wake up."
Whirling around, Anakin met a shadow given life. It- he was a monolith, a monstrous wall of pure darkness.
His breathing echoed around the room, filling the Jedi with dread.
"What?"
"Wake up, little Jedi. The future isn't waiting for you to accomplish it. You fight and fight, and in the end, you get nothing out of it," the shadow said, tone impassive as they come. He might as well have been speaking about the weather.
It was unnerving- and confusing.
Everything felt unreal - but not fake.
Slowly, Anakin turned around - away from the shadow, away from the black hole in the Force.
Before his eyes, the Council chambers dissolved into a sea of sand. Around him, dunes - bathed in the soft oranges of the sunset and the deep indigos of the upcoming night - rose towards the sky.
He knew those braes - they haunted his nights as had his mother before them. After all, she died here - along with them.
They were here. Just like the younglings, they too had been stricken down by a saber wielded with anger, with pain so encompassing that it left a mark engraved on the very ground the atrocity had happened.
"Do you understand?" the Sith - because he could only be a Sith - asked.
His apathy rang clear in the Force. It angered the Jedi - how could he stand beside him, see what he saw - and still feel nothing?!
Anakin whirled around, retort ready on the tip of his tongue. But before he could tear the nightmarish figure a new one, all fight within him died when he came face to face with him.
Gone was the life-support. Gone was the heavy armor that echoed its owner's pain. Gone was the fluttering cape containing a piece of the cold vacuum of space.
In its place stood a man. A man, wearing his face.
Older, more worn. Gaunt. But unarguably, Anakin's face.
"Do you understand? Can you comprehend the reality of what is happening?" the man with the cold, frigid eyes pressed. He wore a frown so painfully familiar that it left Anakin speechless and grasping for straws.
We were born and bred in violence, the monster had said.
"No." The words tumbled out of his mouth before he could stop them. "No, no, no, no. No. I don't understand– What is this?!"
He looked around: his surroundings were a constant kaleidoscope of views - all war-torn, grand displays of savagery and brutality. Anakin would have liked to say it became easier to watch this warped parade of disfigured and mangled cadavers, but then he would be lying.
"Why are you showing me this?" he asked, pain coloring his voice. "Is this really necessary? Why are you doing this?! Who are you? Better yet, why are you wearing my face?"
Anakin let his anger, his fury take control - anything was better than the terrifying numbness that had started overtaking his thoughts.
He didn't get far.
Before he could even blink, Anakin found a glove-cladded hand clutching his throat, knocking his breath away.
All of his previous rage dispersed, exchanged for a mind-clouding mix of confusion and panic.
Not a moment sooner, the hand retreated, leaving the Jedi gasping for air. Rubbing his bruised throat, Anakin shot the older man - so utterly strange, for a spectre from his worst nightmares - a dirty look.
His assailant didn't look affronted. Actually, he was completely unaffected by the younger man's pulsating frustration and growing rage.
If it had been a Jedi in front of him, they would have already evicted the perimeter. Not before asking him to fix his shielding and release his feelings in the Force, of course. Which would have been a piece of semi-sound advice, if he wasn't already in an unnervingly realistic Force vision.
"Come on, Jedi," the Sith hissed, familiar features twisting in a grotesque visage of pure hatred. "Don't sell yourself short. You have already figured it out. Admit it."
Anakin shook his head. The Force was roaring in his ears. Its tortured screams and deafening emptiness followed them as the two men skipped from one warzone to another.
"No. You are wrong. I will never be anything like you."
His mirror image smirked, sharp and dark, dark, dark– "And what exactly is to be someone like me? Is it to give in to one's anger? To do everything possible to achieve one's goal?"
"To become an uncaring monster," the Jedi spat out, his anger reignited once again. "Unaffected by the consequences of his actions."
His clone's smile grew, widening more than it should have been humanly possible. "Just like you were with the Tuskens? When Amidala is in danger? Kenobi? Ahsoka?"
The more that the imposter spoke, the more animated he became. His eyes, alight with fervor, were blazing like embers in the dead of night. They seemed to glow yellow, casting his face in shadows.
The Sith looked unhinged, dangerous. Anakin could almost forget he was wearing his face. Almost.
"That's different-"
"How so?" the man smirked like the nexu that got the convor. Then, not a moment later, the expression disappeared from his face, replaced by a deep scowl.
The Force turned turbulent, twisting and shifting around the darksider, eager to comply with his every whim and thoughtless command. Anakin had never seen it act like that around any other Jedi.
Kriff, he even doubted it acted like that around him. And he was its supposed child.
"How is that so different from this–" the Sith waved his arms around, showcasing the corpses lying at their feet. "You too leave a path of destruction in your wake. No man, woman, or child can stop you from reaching that end goal you thrive to achieve."
"I don't! I- They shouldn't have-"
"What? They shouldn't have what? Gotten in the way?" The man drawled, his amusement dancing around Anakin's senses. "You are the same as me. You are me."
Around them, the echoes of screams long extinguished shook the air. The ground was being drenched in blood, a never-ending stream of it.
It was rising, quickly reaching Anakin's calves, slowly but surely sucking him in‐
"I- I'm- You are not me- I'm NOT YOU‐!"
Invisible hands held him still as terror and darkness flooded his mind. In his peripheral vision, ghosts of people he once knew appeared, mouths wide open in silent screams that hadn't stopped following him when they had.
"You are. You are following my path almost religiously. In hindsight, it was obvious we were going to join the Sith."
The man didn't notice or didn't acknowledge the full-body flinch passing through his younger self. Anakin wasn't sure if he should be grateful for it or not. The confirmation that he joined- that he became one of the monsters that started the war-
He tucked the revelation away to the furthest parts of his mind. Anakin would deal with it later if- when he escaped from this hell.
The Sith hadn't stopped talking.
"After all, when things get rough, what do you do? You let your anger control you, consume you. You let it give you power. Make you stronger. What does that make you if not a Sith?"
"No..." the Jedi whispered, his voice trembling with horror. The blood of his past and future victims was rising up his legs, burning him like fire. "I will never join them. How could you? I can't, I can't be- you.
"How did you- how did we become–" the younger man waved at the corpses, disfigured and broken in a way no living thing should be– "this. Apathetic to the suffering around us. I care–"
"And you think I didn't?!" screamed his mirror image, his ultimate nightmare. His future. "I cared so much. Because I cared, I tore the galaxy apart- And for what?"
The constantly changing scenery around them halted. The blood disappeared. The screams stopped.
The silence stretched; the vacuum left from the previously displayed horrors was thick, sticking to Anakin's skin. He could swear he still felt the red-hot blood dragging him down, chaining him with atrocities that hadn't happened yet. Ones he hadn't yet committed.
The darkness in the air was almost tangible. It came from the ground; it rose in waves from the rivers of magma flowing slowly in the distance. Their dim glow painted everything in the color of freshly spilled blood.
Its potency was a constant weight, pressing on the Jedi.
Could he even call himself that?
The young man looked down at his hands - one artificial and one flesh. They were both bathed in the blood of his allies, his troops, his men. The blood of his victims.
Had he really done- Would he really do all that the Sith said he would? Anakin couldn't comprehend it. He said he cared? For what? Himself? Anakin had never done that, so why start now?
He didn't muse on it for long. He didn't have the chance.
The scenery hadn't changed. But something else did.
Across from the duo, another phantom rose from the ashes covering the ground. It was a wraith, collapsing and reassembling before their eyes.
It stalked the ground, single-minded focus burning in its steps. Its brass-colored hair was matted, sticking to its forehead, and its cerulean eyes gleamed with insanity.
Anakin truly didn't understand why all of his hallucinations had to wear his face. This one was even worse than the resident Sith Lord. At least he reminded Anakin of Dooku, as horrible as that comparison was.
This one... This one seemed more like Maul. Unhinged. Well past the edge.
It moved closer and closer to them, its state of mind clearer with every step. It stopped its march right in front of them. The ashes that had created it solidified, twirling in circular patterns and shapes. Deep anger and never-ending fury swam in the phantom's eyes. And they were boring into the Jedi's own wide pair.
Just when Anakin thought it was going to attack him, another phantom joined it.
Its appearance was a punch in the gut to the Jedi. And if the slight twitch on the Sith's face was an indication, he wasn't the only one affected.
Padmè.
It was Padmè, a beacon of peace and clarity, his oasis from the horrid world. And while his phantom was almost the same as he currently was - the only difference being the length of his hair, hers- Hers wasn't.
The soft glow of the lava was caught in her chocolate curls, twisted as they were in an intricate yet simple braid. It - she - was wearing a simple beige tunic, making her stick out like a sore thumb amidst the darkness surrounding them.
Padmè looked ethereal - like a mirage in the desert. Unreal. Imaginary.
And for more than one reason: unlike his doppelgänger, she was solid. This Padmè wasn't a sandstorm taking the form of a human being. No, she was evidentially her, and yet not.
Her garment's simplicity didn't just allow her a wider range of motion - as the Senator had often bemoaned about her more ornate outfits. No, the skin-tight silhouette perfectly accentuated his wife's alluring curves - including the prominent baby bump.
The phantom Padmè was pregnant.
Anakin stumbled back just as his phantom self took a step forward. The roaring in his ears had returned tenfold, the sight of his wife striking him speechless.
"Oh, Anakin!" she cried, her voice ringing like bells through the landing platform. It was a balm to his ears after the tortured screams that had filled them mere moments ago.
"It's all right, you're safe now. What are you doing out here?"
The spectre's voice was warped and yet horrifyingly familiar. Anakin held back the full-body flinch hearing it caused. While his clone's voice was raspy and barely there, the phantom's was undeniably his.
"I was so worried about you," Padmè whispered from within the phantom's embrace. Her eyes shone silver with unshed tears, and it took everything from Anakin not to rush there and hug her. By the unhappy twist of the Sith's lips, he felt similarly. "Obi-Wan told me terrible things."
"What things?"
"He said you have turned to the dark side... that you killed younglings."
Anakin felt himself grow cold. The vision of the Council chambers flashed behind his eyes in all its bloody glory. Surely...
"Obi-Wan is trying to turn you against me," murmured the human sandstorm, monstrous in its appearance as it twisted around Padmè's glowing figure.
"He cares about us."
"Us?!" it hissed, tearing himself away from her.
"He knows... He wants to help you."
Anakin walked closer to the scene, entrapped in it. He didn't look to see if the Sith followed; he had eyes only for them.
"Is Obi-Wan going to protect you?" The vortex asked, its eyes opened wide. "He can't... he can't help you. He's not strong enough."
"Anakin, all I want is your love."
"Love won't save you, Padmè." The madness and insanity burning in its gaze outshined the rivers of magma surrounding them. "Only my new powers can do that."
"At what cost?" His wife - his amazing, forgiving wife - pleaded. Anakin wanted to shake this unfeeling, mad creature too lost in itself to see the treasure in front of it. "You are a good person. Don't do this."
"I won't lose you the way I lost my mother!" it raved. "I've become more powerful than any Jedi has ever dreamed of, and I've done it for you. To protect you."
"Come away with me," Padmè begged, worry written in every line of her body. "Help me raise our child. Leave everything else behind while we still can."
How could this Anakin - this imposter - be so blind? How could it not comply with her every wish? Anakin didn't understand. As it continued to rant and rave, the tight knot in the Jedi's stomach continued to grow.
"Don't you see, we don't have to run away anymore. I have brought peace to the Republic. I am more powerful than the Chancellor. I can overthrow him, and together you and I can rule the galaxy. Make things the way we want them to be," the absolute madman said as if any of its words made sense.
Padmè seemed to agree with him. "I don't believe what I'm hearing... Obi-Wan was right. You've changed."
"Changed?" Anakin scoffed, crossing his arms. The chill, he felt, only grew stronger the more the conversation went on. "It is completely insane!"
As if to prove the man's point, the phantom exclaimed. "I don't want to hear any more about Obi-Wan. The Jedi turned against me. Don't you turn against me."
"I don't know you anymore. Anakin, you're breaking my heart. I'll never stop loving you, but you are going down a path I can't follow."
"Padmè, dear, it went and had long gone on that path. You are wasting your time, it's a complete moron," the Jedi found himself muttering. A sudden movement to his left attracted his attention. The Sith had moved, coming to a stop next to the phantoms, his gaze glued to the raving spectre.
"Because of Obi-Wan?" whispered the aforementioned creature.
"Because of what you've done... what you plan to do," Padmè said, conviction and desperation etched into her voice. "Stop, stop now. Come back! I love you."
The phantom's eyes jumped to something behind her, widening for a fraction of the second before narrowing in hatred. Its expression twisted into a truly hideous snarl, its gaze returning to the angel in front of it. "Liar!"
Anakin twirled around, and true to the sandstorm's words a phantom Obi-Wan stood in the doorway of Padmè's ship. Anakin hadn't seen him look so stoic and resolute before. The Jedi could see the moment when his eyes met the phantom's: the flash of pain and heartbreak blaring bright in their blue-grey depths.
Padmè spun around, faltering the moment her eyes fell on the intruder. Her vehement denial fell on deaf ears, the phantom sinking deeper into the pit of despair and anger it had built around itself.
"You're with him. You've betrayed me! You brought him here to kill me!"
Anakin froze in his spot. He kept looking, searching for something of himself in this being, but came up empty-handed. How could this be a version of himself? It was unbelievable.
"NO!" His brave, fearless wife exclaimed, staring directly into the eyes of the Fallen without flinching. "Anakin. I swear... I..."
Then the creature, the thing lost in itself did the unthinkable. It reached out, like Anakin himself had done on several occasions - always against those daring to hurt the people he loved, never, oh Force, never against them - and through the Force, it grabbed Padmè's throat. It didn't flinch as she started to choke. It didn't even blink.
Anakin reacted before he could even think. The Jedi threw himself at the being, at the monster choking his wife, never-ending hatred saturating his signature. He was futile, falling through the phantom as if it weren't there.
Nothing he did, affected the scene before him. Nothing. The Force was useless against it. Anything physical he tried to do - be it dragging Padmè - brilliant, pregnant Padmè - away from it or clobbering this demagolka in the face until it regained its senses and then some more. Not even the string of obscenities falling from his lips reached the thing.
"Let her go, Anakin," Obi-Wan said, moving oh, so slowly down the ship's ramp. Anakin wanted to tell him to hurry it up, to take Padmè as far away from here as he could, but the words died on his tongue. He was struck speechless as his mirror image turned its burning gaze towards him.
"What have you and she been up to?" It demanded, its grip around Padmè's throat not wavering for a second. The hatred in its eyes was more potent than the darkness hanging in the air.
Obi-Wan ignored the frankly idiotic inquiry. "Let her go!"
Maybe the phantom still held some modicum of sense in that curly head of its, because it listened, releasing its grip on the unconscious Padmè. Anakin stared in confusion and horror as the spectre let her crumple to the ground, not making a move towards her to check if she was all right.
What was wrong with it? Had it been electrocuted one too many times? Had it been recently smacked in the head? The young man couldn't think of anything short of brain damage making him want to hurt Padmè.
Anakin crouched next to the phantom of his wife as the conversation between the apparitions continued in the background. She was breathing, albeit a bit haltingly, and with her, so could he.
"You turned her against me," said the ashes assembling themselves into a human being. They were moving away from them, away from Padmè. At that moment, Anakin realized that whether that thing had been him or not, it had stopped being Anakin Skywalker the moment he stepped away from his wife.
"You have done that yourself," Obi-Wan declared, and Anakin couldn't help but agree. Everything around him felt so far away. A strange numbness overcame him, his horror and anger a thing of the past. He was detached, a hopeless observer of this tragedy.
"You will not take her from me," the vortex said as Anakin watched on. It was full of anger and righteousness as if it weren't the reason why everything was the way it was. It was disgusting.
The spectre threw off his cloak, striding across the platform like a predator hunting its prey. This kind of behavior should have never been pointed toward Obi-Wan. Never. He had only ever used it against Ventress, against Dooku. Against enemies. And Obi-Wan knew that.
If it affected him, the Jedi Master didn't let it show - his expression was grim, and his presence was at peace. "Your anger and your lust for power have already done that."
Anakin couldn't help but admire the stoicism of the man. Had he been in his shoes, he would have already attacked. Had already tried to do so, in fact.
Soon enough, Obi-Wan too flung off his cloak, his posture resigned. "You have allowed this Dark Lord to twist your mind until now... Until now, you have become the very thing you swore to destroy."
They started to circle each other until Obi-Wan came near the fallen figure of his wife. He bent down, checking her pulse before turning his attention to the phantom. It had turned its back to them, and oh, how much that made Anakin want to throttle it. The audacity- How could it still expect decency and fair game when it had attacked an unarmed opponent?
"Don't lecture me, Obi-Wan," the thing hissed, excruciating anger coloring the lilt of its voice. "I see through the lies of the Jedi. I do not fear the dark side as you do. I have brought peace, justice, freedom, and security to my new Empire."
"Your new Empire?" both Obi-Wan and Anakin echoed in sync.
"What new Empire?" the Jedi sputtered, his confusion breaking through the numbness consuming his body. "What Empire?!"
"Continue watching, Jedi," the Sith rumbled, his feelings locked tightly behind durasteel shields. His attention was glued to the two figures - beige and black - with unwavering focus. "I will explain later."
"I will hold you to that."
"Don't make me kill you," the phantom warned, the counterfeit piece of sand that it was. What was forcing it to do anything?! Nothing, that was what.
"Anakin, my allegiance is to the Republic... to democracy," Obi-Wan pleaded, always reasoning, always searching for a way to negotiate. It almost brought Anakin to tears, his heart breaking.
"If you're not with me, you're my enemy."
"Only a Sith Lord deals in absolutes-" and, oh how painful it was to hear, the resigned tone, denouncing any hope the man might have held- "I will do what I must."
The Jedi ignited his lightsaber, effectively cutting Anakin's heart in half. The pit in his stomach grew as his counterpart did the same.
"You will try," it promised, and the Jedi felt the truth ringing sadly through the Wind.
Because whatever it was that brought him here was more subjective than the Force, more prone to reply. The Wind was what helped him win a race, what helped him survive a particularly vicious dogfight. It was what kept him alive. No matter how much he currently wished he wasn't.
Anakin closed his eyes, pressing his hands to them in the hopes he wouldn't see what came next. He had no such luck.
The images continued to play behind his eyelids, searing themselves into his mind. It was heartbreaking to watch - to see the result of years of hidden resentment and love reach its culmination.
His chest was throbbing, the phantom pieces of his heart ripping it to shreds. Anakin couldn't think, he couldn't blink, he couldn't breathe. His whole view had narrowed down to the two fighting men and what they represented - his whole world: falling apart around him.
After what felt like forever, the fight ended. Slowly, the surrounding heat disappeared as the scenery changed once again.
It didn't matter. Anakin could still see the smoldering body, could hear its tortured screams. He could see the tears sliding down the phantom of his master, mirroring his own.
Hours passed before the Jedi managed to disperse the turmoil residing inside him. And even then, a few black tendrils of heartbreak and anguish stayed weaved through his presence.
Looking around, Anakin wasn't met with horrific displays of savagery and darkness. No. They were in a clearing, free of night terrors.
"I survived that. She didn't," the phantom said, his appearance flickering between the armored giant and the hardened survivor. Anakin didn't react to the new information, lost as he was in his thoughts. "I Fell for her. I... was having dreams of her demise."
Anakin's head jerked up, staring at his double in horror.
"Sidious promised me her salvation. In the end, I was the one who destroyed her."
"Why are you torturing me with this? According to this- this visage of horrors, I'm destined to destroy everyone and everything I ever loved. Do my reactions bring you some sick sense of accomplishment? Tell me!" the Jedi shouted, hatred running hot through his veins.
"I am showing you this to prove a point. You have the potential to destroy everything you hold dear. Not that you will. I'm here, so you don't become me," the Sith said, unbothered by the wrecked expression plastered over his younger self's face. "I'm here, so you don't repeat my mistakes."
"But how? Why would I do any of- of-" Anakin took a deep breath and tried to center himself to no avail- "How could you?"
Looking into the old pained eyes of his doppelgänger, the young man found nothing but sympathy and heartbreak. "Because I was a fool. I trusted somebody I shouldn't have and alienated everyone who could help me."
"But why?" Anakin couldn't help but bemoan. Nothing made sense anymore - him hurting Obi-Wan, hurting Padmè, killing her. It was unthinkable and yet it had happened in his alter's time.
"Life is never easy or fair," the Sith said, his voice carrying through the clearing. The trees around them rustled in the breeze. "All of that happened because of the machinations of one man. My Master."
An overwhelming feeling of dread came over the younger man. The Force around him churned with urgency, its familiar song whispering in his ears.
"Who...?" The question fell off his lips before Anakin could stop it.
The Sith - Darth Vader, murmured the Wind, its warm caress tickling his senses - smirked mirthlessly. Looking at the peculiar expression on the man's face, Anakin couldn't help but experience a sudden sense of deja vu.
As the man hooked his thumbs in his belt, his appearance changed to that of the armored giant. The strange feeling didn't linger for long, vanishing soon after that.
"My Master, Darth Sidious - the Emperor of the newly established Empire was - is - no other but Sheev Palpatine," Vader declared tonelessly.
It was as if Anakin got doused in a lake's worth of cold water. The air froze in his lungs. The dread from before was nothing compared to the wave of horror and denial that rose in him.
But no matter how much he swore it off, the truth ringing in the Force couldn't be disputed. His emotions were waging war within, tearing him apart. Anger. Terror. Deep blistering betrayal.
Everything was too much, too close. Anakin's vision narrowed, and everything seemed ready to collapse and take him with it. Many minutes, maybe an hour, passed before the Jedi could rearrange his thoughts into some semblance of calm.
With everything pushed into a box in the corner of his mind - to be opened later in the safety of his rooms or in the sales in the middle of the night - the younger man turned his attention to the hulking figure.
Vader looked strangely at peace amidst all of it - the dark forest seemed to welcome him like an old friend. The rustle of the leaves and the sounds of the wildlife fitted in harmony with the man's breathing. They alleviated his turbulent presence to a cold breeze; calming the untamable beast, residing in him. 'That makes one of us,' the Jedi grumbled, his emotions bubbling up to the surface.
Suddenly, the Force chimed with something he hadn't felt in a long time. Since before his time as a Jedi. Since Tatooine.
The Wind carried a chantlike, jittery tune, and the air thrummed with the nervous energy of someone doing something for the first time in forever. It was all centered around the Sith, whose form shifted as that of Ekkreth.
"Listen carefully, child," the vocoder boomed, failing to convey the grave tone of the man beneath, "I will tell you a story that one day will save your life."
Hours later, Anakin opened his eyes in the early morning of Coruscant. What met him were the Council chambers in complete disarray, Windu's guarded but worried frown at the helm of it all.
Anakin took a deep breath. He had a tale to tell.