chapter 8

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True intentions are clouded.

I sat over the covers of my bed, simply lifting off the stress of the past twenty-four hours, as some clouded visions rushed through my mind. They were of the future, something inexplicable, causing pain, terror, and death, all from a lust for passion and power.

Only glimpses came to me, those of war, and victory in said war, but also great defeat and betrayal, wrapped in a web of lies. No, no. These visions were a lie, this couldn't happen, not here, not now. There's no war, there hasn't been one in a long time.

I shook this vision from my head. I knew better than to trust these visions, but they came back. Those of heavy heels walking along the temple steps, lightsabers clashing, guns cocking, preceding mass destruction.

Again, I refused to listen to whatever these visions were trying to tell me. Anakin and I had just had a conversation about peace and chaos a few hours ago. Whatever was occuring in my mind was an illusion, yet—it was almost too convincing. And too familiar.

I tried my best to suppress these visions, carving my nails into my palms and letting out all my frustration. They ceased, and were successfully forgotten forever, hopefully never to return. Now, all I knew was that the vision had been horrible, but I could no longer recall why.

My door slams open in a sudden burst of energy. "Are you all right? I heard screams."

Screams? I couldn't even recall my own screaming? I didn't know if I was fine, I don't remember what just happened, all I know is I had a bad vision and forgot it. I had no idea that I even made a sound, but even if I didn't, he would still come looking for me.

My eyes shoot open as I glance at him. "I'm fine, Anakin, it was just a vision," I say, attempting to brush off the look of sheer panic covering my face.

He was perplexed—more than when I apparently yelled for no apparent reason—at the fact that it happened because of one vision. "Have you had them before?"

Surprisingly, his look seemed somewhat... caring? No way. Anakin Skywalker couldn't care for me in the slightest. That boy was nothing short of self-centered, reckless and nonchalant, not caring, especially not for me.

Sure, he didn't kill me in training, but that doesn't mean anything. Not wanting to kill someone—which he probably wanted to do anyways—doesn't mean you have to worry about them.

I nod in approval. "Only small things, like something I would do the next day or a milestone," I state.

He slowly sat down next to me and I flinched a bit. I wasn't used to other Jedi—except Master Gallia—sitting on my bed. It felt too wrong. Too close.

"I've had them, too," Anakin says. "Do you remember what it was about?"

I closed my eyes to recreate it, to no avail. "No, but it definitely wasn't joyful, I chose to forget it fast."

He looked at me with compassion in his eyes. I couldn't tell if he was actually worried about me or only worried because he's been in this situation before. "Y/n, I know you don't trust me, but those visions are true, Jedi don't have meaningless nightmares or scenarios, these are real."

Anakin Skywalker was wiser than I knew. If I had only begun to have bad visions, someone so connected with the force would surely have had them for years, it must've been horrible to see such things so young.

I looked out my window and felt the air outside my quarters. It was a light breeze with the most delightful touch of humidity as the sky began to change tones following the sun's disappearance.

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