A/N:you guys pushed the rank quite alot so I thought to post this chapter up.
One normal length chapter tomorrow at prime time, keep your stones ready!
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He took another step forward, hands now both visible and empty—a calculated gesture of non-aggression that somehow made him look more dangerous, not less. "Though I appreciate your concern for my well-being. Truly touching, given present circumstances."
Hett's saber ignited again with a vicious snap-hiss, the crimson blade casting his masked face in a hellish glow.
"This is a trick. An illusion. The Empire hunted every survivor. There's no way—"
"And yet here I stand," Obi-Wan interrupted, his voice as calm as a still pond. His eyes—blue, clear, utterly without fear—met Hett's golden gaze. "Rather inconveniently for your current worldview, I imagine. Tell me, A'Sharad, when did torturing children become part of Tusken justice? I don't recall that being in your father's teachings. Sharad Hett was a man of honor, a warrior who understood that true strength lies in protecting the innocent, not preying upon them."
The mention of Hett's father was like throwing a thermal detonator into a fuel depot.
"Don't you dare—" Hett's voice rose to a roar, the sound raw and ragged. "Don't you dare speak of him! You have no right! None of you had any right! You, who sat in your ivory temple, passing judgment on the galaxy while my people bled in the sand!"
He hurled me aside with a flick of his wrist, the telekinetic force sending me sprawling into the dirt like a discarded toy. I hit the sand hard, vision sparking, ribs protesting in ways ribs definitely shouldn't protest. Through the haze of pain, I watched Hett advance on Obi-Wan, his rage a palpable force in the air.
"The Jedi Council abandoned us!" Hett snarled, his voice a venomous hiss. "My father died protecting your precious Republic, and what did we get? Nothing. The Tuskens were slaughtered, enslaved, treated like animals, and the Order did nothing! You turned a blind eye to our suffering, Kenobi. You called it 'maintaining balance.' I call it complicity."
"You're right."
The admission stopped Hett cold. It was so unexpected, so out of place in the midst of this brutal confrontation, that it seemed to suck the very air out of the space between them.
Obi-Wan stood his ground, unflinching. "The Order failed your people. We were so focused on the 'big picture,' on the war with the Separatists, that we lost sight of the smaller injustices, the quiet suffering of those who weren't on the front lines. We failed your father. We failed you." His hand moved to his lightsaber hilt, but didn't draw yet. "But this? This isn't justice, A'Sharad. This is just pain wearing a mask of righteousness. You've become the very thing you claim to fight against."
"You know nothing of my pain," Hett spat, his voice thick with contempt.
"Don't I?" Obi-Wan's voice dropped, quiet but carrying. "I watched my Master die in my arms, cut down by a Sith Lord we should have seen coming. I trained a brother, a friend, a hero of the Republic, only to watch him fall to the Dark Side and be forced to cut him down on a fiery hellscape of a planet. I've lost everyone I've ever cared for, everyone I ever called family. The difference between us, A'Sharad, is that I didn't let that pain turn me into a monster. I didn't let it consume me and twist me into a parody of everything I once stood for."
The gold in Hett's eyes blazed brighter, a burning testament to his rage.
"You're still so arrogant," he breathed, almost wonderingly. "Still so certain of your moral superiority. The Jedi are dead, Kenobi. Your way failed. My way survives."
"Survival at what cost?" Obi-Wan asked softly, his voice laced with a deep, genuine sorrow. "Look around you. Look at what you've built. Is this the legacy your father would have wanted? Is this the world you want your children to inherit? A world of fear, of endless cycles of violence and retribution? You've created a prison, A'Sharad, and you've locked yourself inside it along with everyone else."
For just a moment—one heartbeat—something flickered across Hett's posture. Doubt? Shame? A ghost of the man he once was?
Then it was gone, consumed by the burning gold of his rage.
"My father was weak," Hett said flatly, the words a final, damning judgment. "He clung to Jedi teachings even as they led him to his death. He believed in a Republic that never existed, a justice that was always just out of reach. I won't make that mistake. I will do what is necessary to ensure my people survive, no matter the cost."
Obi-Wan's expression shifted—still calm, but now tinged with a deep, weary sadness.
"Then I've truly lost you," he said quietly. "And for that, old friend, I am sorry."
His lightsaber ignited.
Blue light cut through the smoke, steady and sure, a beacon of hope in the encroaching darkness.
"But I can't let you continue this. You know I can't."
Hett's answering laugh was bitter, edged with something unhinged.
"Good," he said, settling into a combat stance, the crimson blade humming with a malevolent energy. "I've been wanting to kill a ghost."
The two Jedi faced each other across blood-soaked sand, a silent tableau of light and dark, past and present.
And somewhere behind them, I wheezed out a pained breath and thought:
Oh good. The adults are fighting now. This will definitely end well.
My ribs disagreed with the assessment. Violently.Tap on a clip to paste it in the text box.
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A/N: on other points, i finally have 2 chapters up on Patreon as advanced chaptsr, available to all tiers.
Join if if you wanna support my writing or wanna read extra!
patreon.com/AbstractoX