Kenobi Chronicles

Episode 3 (part 2)

There was a faint laugh—as if it came from another room. Then a familiar face appeared over his head. One with blonde curls that fell to her shoulders. His heart swelled as he looked up into her crystal-blue eyes.

"Obi-wan," she said. "Augh, that's such a terribly long name."

In the blink of an eye, Kenobi was beside her, his rough tan hand lay on the railing next to her pale smooth one, barely any space in between. How much he wanted to hold that smooth hand, but he was never brave enough to reach for it.

"Ben," she said with a note of finality. "I will call you Ben."

Obi-wan turned to look at her. Her blue eyes danced so close to his. She tossed her golden curls behind her shoulder and stared into his eyes, causing his heart to beat faster and faster. If he had only seized the moment, just then.

In a flash, the lights went out and Satine was dragged from his side, shadows cast all over the floor. They were in the destroyed throne room of Mandalore. Satine was much older now—her jaw having grown sharper and her nose more angled, but the same crystal blue eyes stared at him.

"Satine!" General Kenobi called to her as she hung suspended in the air. Her eyes looked fiercely down at him. To all in the room, she was the fearless Duchess of Mandalore. But to Obi-wan—she was—

"KENOBI!" A gravelly voice rang out in the throne room. Kenobi turned to the voice, but could only see a dark shadow. His blood ran cold as he saw this shadow holding a silver-laced blade.

He had returned to one of the worst days of his life.

"No—no wait!" Kenobi cried, but his voice barely reached his own ears.

The shadow raked Satine forward and plunged the silver-black blade into the chest of the fearless Duchess.

Kenobi's cry died in his mouth. As if Fate were part of this cruel charade, his feet were suddenly free, and he raced to catch the falling limp body in his arms. But just like all cruel dreams, as soon as he caught the her, everything began to disappear around them. Save her eyes.

The last thing he remembered was watching the dim light of the crystal-blue eyes snuff out.

"Master Jedi!"

Someone firmly shook his shoulder. Kenobi's eyes shot open before he sat up. It was Haja.

"We need to leave, Master Jedi!" The swindler said in a whisper. His tone was urgent. But the only explanation he offered his gesture to the window that stood across from the cot Kenobi had fallen asleep on.

The old Jedi walked over and peaked out the slats and down into the alley. It was raining outside, pooling in silver puddles that refracted a few neon lights from the streets. Other than that—there were only bags of trash.

"I don't see anything—"

"Look up." Haja said simply as he stuffed the remaining supplies in a bag and pulled its strings tight. Kenobi's eyes turned to the sky—and grew wide at what he saw. An obnoxiously large ship, bearing the mark of the Empire loomed close overhead.

"It's Inquisitors," the swindler whispered, as if they could hear him. "They're combing the streets. We need to leave—"

"They might not be, Haja—it could just be a patrol—"

"NO!" Haja spat poisonously, but he regretted it immediately, seeing the old Jedi's brow furrow. He took on a gentler tone. "No, Master Jedi. I know a patrol ship when I see one. That is an Inquisitor and whatever he has for minions aboard. Trust me, my friend."

Kenobi observed the ship for a moment. Daiyu was a large planet—there was no need to rush for refuge was there? But still, he sensed great anxiety—even terror—coming from the swindler. Haja Estree had a history with these hunters.