The Chosen Apprentice/Chapter 7

That night the dreams came back, but Anakin was in a place that he had never seen before. The heat was sweltering, yet it was a different kind of heat from that he had experienced on Tatooine. This was a blistering inferno, akin to being inside the core of an enormous reactor.

Around him he could see the explosions of what seemed to be a thousand volcanos, smoke and ash in the air and in the distance a river of lava snaking over the molten rocks.

Yet this was all secondary to Anakin, the heat and smoke and everything was merely just a backdrop for what was in front of him. It was Padmé, her eyes were shining with love but she was crying. He didn’t know why, but he had a vague idea that it had something to do with him, about what he had done and she didn’t like it.

“I don't know you anymore,” she sobbed to him, tears falling onto the tan coloured tunic she wore. “Anakin, you're breaking my heart. I'll never stop loving you, but you are going down a path I can't follow.”

It had always ached him to see her upset and normally Anakin would have done anything to stop her from crying. Yet for some reason he was angry at her, shouting her down and caring little for what she was saying.

“Liar!” he raged, sensing her in the Force and reaching out a hand.

“NO!” Padmé looked around; staring between Anakin and someone he couldn’t see. She pleaded with him. “Anakin, I swear…I…”

Yet Anakin didn’t want to listen to her, he could feel the Force within his grip as he brought around to close Padmé’s windpipe. She brought her hands up to her throat, gasping for air and imploring him with her eyes.

“Let her go, Anakin!” shouted another voice, yet Anakin did not even turn to see whoever that was. “Let her go!”

This time Anakin did withhold his grip on Padmé, watching her crumpling to the floor. She did not stir. For a moment Anakin stood there, watching Padmé’s prone form as if he was transfixed.

Then someone stepped out of the shadows and knelt on the ground to examine her, a curtain of smoke seemed to hang between them for a moment, then the smoke cleared and the figure looked up.

It was Obi-Wan.

What have I done? Anakin thought in exasperation.

Obi-Wan turned but Anakin couldn’t see him, the smoke had come up again and was invading his eyes and mouth. He brushed it away and the orange glow of the lava gave way to dim grey light. With a jolt he sat up in bed, his bare skin cold with sweat.

“I killed her,” Anakin whispered, looking around to see if he was in some sort of cell, the walls were bare enough.

Yet the bare walls were that of his quarters at the Temple, Padmé had been dead three years by the hand of the Sith and not his own, and what had he had seen was only a dream. In a way it was a relief.

But why do I feel like I’m responsible? Anakin wondered, the coolness against his skin settling his whirling thoughts. Was it me and not Sidious who caused her death, because I was willing to believe him and not her?

He stared at the wall for a moment, running over what he had seen in his mind. Was it a vision? Did it mean anything? He didn’t know and wasn't sure if he could bring himself to mention it to Obi-Wan.

Suddenly he pulled his cloak over his shoulders and slipped his feet into his boots. There wasn’t any way he was going to get any more sleep tonight.



Anakin wandered through the Temple without purpose, it was still in the early hours of the morning and soft lights on the walls suited his mood. He wasn’t willing to examine things completely yet, he needed to contemplate in the shadows before he could understand what he had seen. And what he had felt.

Somehow he found himself in the Temple gardens, the cool wind moving his sweaty hair away from where it stuck to the back of his neck. He looked around for a moment; it was as good a place as any. He sat down on a hard stone bench, staring into space and dismissing all thoughts from his mind.

A flash of light made him look around, he almost smiled. In one of the flower beds were rows of lambent poppies, native to Naboo he believed. Several times a year, once in the early spring and again in the late summer, the buds of the flowers would open one night in a show of colour, light and perfume. It had taken quite some effort on the part of several Jedi for the display to occur on Coruscant, and even now they would only flower once a year as the seasons were synthetically stimulated on the city planet.

Anakin had seen it once before, he remembered when he was still a Padawan learner and Obi-Wan had taken him here one evening without any explanations. Together they had watched the flowers open, marvelled as the night wore on and the pollen exploded from the stamens before the blossom would illuminate with a brilliant flash of colour—and no two lambent poppies had the exactly same hue when they glowed.

At the gasps and sighs from another part of the garden, Anakin realised that he wasn’t alone. Clustered around the flowerbed was a crowd of younglings with Yoda and several other Masters.

The show now seemed uninteresting to Anakin, yet he could not get out of the garden without going right past them. Anakin knew that children whispered about him in the Temple, one had even come up to Anakin and asked if it was true that he had killed a Sith Lord. Anakin had given the young Twi’lek boy such a glare his little blue knees were shaking when Anakin had gone.

“Ahhhh!” They sighed, the show was coming to its climax now. Eventually Anakin knew the flowers would fly off their stems, glittering in the air for a moment before floating to the ground. They would then take flowers as keepsakes yet the light would only last for a few hours. It had actually quite disturbed him when he had first seen it, for weeks the flowers would be in bud for only this single night of beauty and glory. The next day the flowers would only be brown petals on the garden paths, picked up and thrown away by one of the garden droids. He still could not watch it without a tinge of pain.

How can something that beautiful die so quickly? He had asked Obi-Wan that at the time and Obi-Wan had gone into a long explanation of how everything dies: a Jedi must form no attachments and other things that Anakin had never bothered to listen to.

“Ooooh! Ahhhhh!” The end of the performance was nearing, the light growing brighter and scent growing stronger. He could see the light reflected off their faces; feel their pleasure rising in the Force.

Yet why did he continue to sit there? Surely there could be a way that he could sneak past without being noticed? But he didn’t feel inclined to, and there was nothing wrong with waiting here in the shadows until it was over. They couldn’t see him from where he was…

However, as the lights reached an almost blinding brightness, and as Anakin cast his eyes over the crowd of younglings watching, one of them saw him. A girl, she had dark hair caught up in a braid down the back of her head yet that was all he could see of her. For a moment they locked eyes, a feeling of stillness passed between them that eclipsed all other feelings, even the increasing noise of the crowd.

Then it was over, the last of the flowers were on the path and the children stooped to pick them up. Even the girl who had noticed him was lost in the sea of bowed heads, her presence one of many in the Force.

What had happened there? It was a sensation that he had felt before with others—Obi-Wan for example—yet from someone he had never even seen before? It didn’t make sense.

“Jedi Skywalker?”

Anakin jumped at the voice, looking around and saw that it was the dark haired girl that had caught his attention. Yet it did not surprise him that she knew his name, practically everyone did.

He didn’t catch her eye this time, looking past her and waiting to hear why she had come to speak to him. She then stepped into his line of vision, her large dark eyes widening. Reflected in her pupils was his own face: himself as she saw him.

“Why are you so sad?”

The question was enough to stop Anakin’s thoughts in their tracks. He looked at her—really looked at her—with a confused expression.

Yet he didn’t answer and she didn’t speak either. Then from the small posy she held, she gave him a flower; their fingers touched for a moment and a sensation went up Anakin’s arm akin to an electric current.

Anakin stared at the flower and then at her. “But why—”

“Sona?” The girl’s head whipped around in response to the call. It was one of the Masters leading the rather tired children inside. “Sona, it’s time to go.”

“Coming Master Sarib,” she said, obediently following the female Rodian out of the garden.

Yet in the doorway she paused, staring at Anakin for a long moment. Anakin watched her, watched her watching him before she went inside.

What is going on? thought Anakin in exasperation, not liking what was happening one bit.