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Anakin Skywalker is on the path to become one of the greatest figures on the galactic scene. If you want to read an original story of greatness, you can check my story, Arrival : Ruptures. Comments, likes and reviews are appreciated. Here are the links for : AO3, Spacebattles, Royal Road and Webnovel.
—
Tatooine
Sanctum Sanctorum
"They believe you are the Chosen One?" Strange snorted, breaking down into short, silent laughs.
Anakin rolled his eyes, laying the stack of books on the table. "Not funny," he said, opening the first tome.
"They just think I am a strong candidate," he added to clarify. He certainly didn't want to deal with a prophecy. He didn't even know the contents of the damn thing.
Strange glanced at the books. The titles consisted of a single subject: restoration. "You were born without a father. I think we can agree that's a sign." No Father and a prophecy that might be related to him?
Unlikely to be a coincidence.
He closed the tome, pushing it aside. "Is it bad that I don't care about this prophecy? That I don't want to be anyone's prophesied savior?"
His teacher huffed and ruffled his hair. "No. Fate might have thrown you a curveball, but you don't have to catch it."
Anakin combed a hand through his hair, straightening the long strands. "Got any mystic advice about prophecies?"
Strange took a seat, inspecting the tomes. "I have one from a movie," he said. He hadn't even watched the whole movie and only saw a certain section. Considering the parallels, it was fitting.
"One often meets his destiny on the road he takes to avoid it."
Anakin turned to his teacher, brows furrowed. Was it truly that simple? "Just live my life and ignore this whole Chosen One matter, then?"
"Exactly."
"Actually," Anakin closed another book, dissatisfied with his research so far. "I've been meaning to ask. Is there anything that could restore the biosphere of a planet?"
Strange closed his eyes, a soft, amused smile on his face. It explained all the tomes on restoration spells. "There is the Book of Vishanti. It has the power to do that but only if you prove worthy," he said.
He wanted to keep the Book of Vishanti and the Darkhold secrets for longer. "Dangerous" did not begin to describe the Darkhold, and the Vishanti was difficult to use. For all the maturity Anakin showed, he was still fifteen.
He required experience only time could provide.
"What must I do?"
Strange shook his head. "It's not a test. The book simply reads your intentions. If they are pure and selfless, it allows you to use it. Otherwise, the pages just go blank."
"There is a planet, Kalee. They were invaded by slavers who basically stripped every natural resource, poisoned the water supplies, and harvested every animal. When the invaders lost and cried to the Republic, the planet was put under a blockade. The Kaleesh are starving, and no one is doing anything."
"Come with me. Let's see if the book thinks the same," Strange said. He did something with his watch, and a white portal snapped open. Strange stepped through first. Anakin followed, his jaw falling.
They landed on a platform among the clouds, where a book, glowing with the purest feelings of harmony and order he had ever felt, lay on a shrine.
"Welcome to Gap Junction, kid, the space between universes," he said, spreading his arms out. Interestingly enough, the chains on his soul did not stop him from crossing into the Gap Junction.
A pity the Book of Vishanti had proved to be of no use.
"Holy…"
"Go ahead, you can marvel at this place later."
He laid his hands on the book, taking a deep breath. He had selfish needs. He would not deny it. He wanted the Hutts dead. He wanted slavery gone. He wanted injustice to end.
Right now, he wanted to help the people of Kaleesh most. Tatooine was freed. He desired the same for Kaleesh. While the Banking Clans were not the Hutts, indentured servitude was no better than slavery. If he could restore the planet to its original, lush state, they would be free.
There was no response from the book. Not that he knew if there would be. Seeing no harm, he opened it to find a blank page.
"It's empty," he said. His shoulders sagged. Closing the book and laying it on the shrine, he turned around to leave.
Seems his desire wasn't that pure.
"I wouldn't be so hasty." Strange smiled, head jerking to the shrine. Anakin slowly turned around again. The book was floating by itself, pages rapidly turning. He shielded his eyes from the glow. Seconds later, it suddenly died down.
He lowered his arms, seeing a single page with a mandala on it. He recognized some of the signs. The rest were unknown, either languages he hadn't seen or ones he had yet to learn. The complexity was mind-blowing.
Strange whistled. "A temporal restoration spell. That's one way to do it."
"Congratulations, kid. Though, this is going to bring the whole galaxy's attention to you. Be ready."
Anakin raised his head, his eyes blazing hotter than the twin suns of Tatooine. "I will be."
—
Fort Freedom
"Let's say I have a way to restore Kalee to its former state. Who would I have to speak to?" he asked Corlen. The book would handle most everything. He, however, had to be ready for the aftermath.
Corlen looked left and then right first to see if anyone else heard them. "Qymaen jai Sheelal. He was the warlord who united the tribes against the Yam'rii. Last anyone's heard, he was working for the Banking Clans to save his people. He is unlikely to be planetside."
Unfortunately, there wasn't a diplomatic channel they could establish to reach the next person in charge.
—
Kalee
Kaleela
Reaching the planet was simple. He was able to find a live feed of the Banking Clan, which displayed the relief efforts on the planet as propaganda. A swish of his hand and he was standing on the desolate planet.
He had to cover his mouth.
The dust and smoke in the air were thick. The planet was in an even worse state than the rumors painted it as. Gray, lifeless skies; desolate plains; no hint of vegetation. The city before him, the closest location the many tribes had to a capital, was overflowing with tents.
With Qymaen off the planet, his second in command, Bentilais san Sk'ar, was the governor of the planet. He had no idea where to find him. Kaleela was a cultural and trade hub where the tribes met under peace. Bentilais would be on one of his tribe's many strongholds.
He would let them come to him.
He walked towards the outer walls. Families were huddled together, eating what meager food the Banking Clans deigned to share. They weren't in any condition to question what a human was doing in their world.
It was time to get their attention.
The Cloak of Levitation raised him to the sky. It was slow and deliberate so everyone could see him. He didn't want the Banking Clans to spin this to their advantage. Those predatorial bastards would do everything in their power to claim they had restored Kalee simply to exploit the population more.
Warriors they were, so they acted as warriors.
Blasters were pointed at him, but no one fired. Kalee might be under crippling sanctions and a trade embargo, but they still knew what was happening across the galaxy to a degree. The Sorcerer of Tatooine had shaken the galaxy in the short time he was known.
No one wanted to be the first to shoot.
Anakin spread the Book of Vishanti open, laying his hand on the page with the spell. He pulled the mandala out of the book and raised his palm to the sky. The mandala broke the thick, dark clouds apart. The spot it created was the size of an ordinary mandala, simply in pure white.
He poured everything he could into the circle.
It began to expand, pushing the clouds further apart.
—
Within seconds, every Kaleesh across the planet saw the white barrier cover the sky. When it reached its climax, a veil of pure, bright white light blinded the population. For one second exactly, Kalee glowed brighter than the system's star.
—
The white glow disappeared as quickly as it appeared. The people of Kalee didn't have the time to comprehend what had happened. Some thought another misfortune had befallen the planet. First the war, then the sanctions and the starvation that followed.
Just another punishment they did not deserve.
When they stood on green, pristine grass, when the poisoned, gray waters ran crystal clear, when the forests that were long gone cast their shades on the earth, when the sound of animals, long gone and almost forgotten, graced their ears once more, when the air was clear and fresh to breathe in without a worry, the Kaleesh thought they had finally stepped into the Abode of the Ancestors.
Only, the droids of the Banking Clans and the Sorcerer of Tatooine were still here.
—
Anakin stood above the city, floating only because the cloak refused to let him fall. The spell had drained him out, leaving the young sorcerer swimming between dreams and reality. The Book of Vishanti, with its purpose of restoration over, closed. The echo it left behind snapped Anakin awake.
He struggled to breathe.
The cloak lowered him down, right into the center of the city. The people ceased their celebrations for a moment, flooding towards the Sorcerer. He landed, his knees almost giving out. The cloak kept him on his feet. He kept his head down to not compromise his image.
"If your leaders want to talk, I will return in three days," he said. He opened a portal, one that was tight and flickering. He was barely through before it collapsed.
The Kaleesh stood there for minutes, trying to comprehend.
—
Tatooine
Sanctum Sanctorum
He fell on his knees and hands, feeling his vision get blurry.
"Ani!" his mother called, running to his side. She turned him over, laying his head on her lap. Her hands swept his damp locks to the side.
"He overexerted himself. He just needs to rest," Strange said. He created a stretcher beneath his apprentice, floating him up to his room.
—
Scipio
"What?" Qymaen hissed. He barely had time to breathe from the incessant tasks of the Banking Clans. He didn't wish to spend it listening to his Izvoshra's insane claims.
Bentilais blinked, but the glazed look in his eyes remained. "The Sorcerer of Tatooine. He restored Kalee," he said with a flat, emotionless tone.
Qymaen slammed his fist on the console. "Are you under the influence of something, Bentilais?" They were all going through harsh times. It didn't mean Bentilais would break and resort to chemicals.
He could be poisoned.
"No, forgive me. I am simply in shock." Bentilais shook his head. His yellow eyes cleared up and he stood straight.
"Everyone on Kaleela saw him. He covered the planet with a barrier. There was a short, blinding glow, and I found myself standing among the trees."
Qymaen let himself fall onto his seat, blinking. "What did he want in return?" Nothing in this galaxy was free. The assistance of the Banking Clans came with so many leashes he felt himself choke each day.
Restoring Kalee to its verdant days wasn't a favor one would do without expecting anything in return.
"Nothing. He just said he would return to Kaleela in three days if our leaders wanted to speak. Qymaen, you must be here," he said, his voice carrying a tone he had only heard in their war against the Huk.
Hope.
"Does the restoration include farm lands?" he asked. Even if the planet were hospitable once again, they didn't have the infrastructure to grow food. The bugs had made sure of that. Even in this scenario, their dependency on San Hill might continue.
"Yes. As we speak, our people are harvesting what they can. We still need tools and machines, but we have enough."
"Then we are done with the Banking Clans. I will return to Kalee immediately," he said, ripping the comlink out of his arm.
He needed a ship.
—
Kalee
Sleep evaded him. On most days, he would have taken drugs. The countless battles that had to be fought for the Banking Clans required him to rest. Whenever he didn't take the medicine, Qymaen would spiral deep into his mind.
His mate would always be his first thought. Her death would play in his mind over and over again. Until he swore bloody vengeance against the Yam'rii once again. Vengeance that he could not take.
All because of the Galactic Republic.
He was awake for a different reason this time.
The thought that he would see his home, not as it is but as it was, filled him with something he had long forgotten. A feeling he had abandoned the day he saw the first of his people starve to death.
Hope.
He heard the mysterious Sorcerer's deeds. How he had slain Jabba the Hutt, another slaver no different than the Yam'rii. How he had freed Tatooine and, most recently, his crushing defeat of a force far superior to his own. It reminded him of their war.
Even if they had not met, he felt a kinship with the Sorcerer. A warrior who had promised to eradicate slavery. A deed he couldn't fulfill against the bugs.
Beyond the impossibility of it, he failed to understand why the Sorcerer would go to the trouble of restoring Kalee. What did he hope to gain? The only thing his world could offer was their warriors.
Warriors that were in no condition to go to war.
The planetary economy was in ruins, only kept together by the Banking Clans. They couldn't produce weapons or ships nor could they buy them. There were no special resources on Kalee to leverage.
The Republic and the Jedi had seen to that.
The blue and white of hyperspace finally came to an end. Qymaen felt his throat tighten. Even from the exit point, he could see the change in Kalee. The brown and black blots were gone. His eyes feasted on the greens, the blues, the whites.
His sight blurred.
Qyman raised a finger to his right eye, trying to clear his vision. His finger came back wet. He slowly raised his head, looking at his reflection on the reflective surface of the ship.
He was shedding tears.
He remembered the last time he had cried. He had promised himself to never do it again. To never be so weak.
He directed his ship to Kaleela's outskirts, towards the Forest of Alaamar. It was one of the first locations the Yam'rii had stripped to break their spirits.
It looked even better than he remembered.
He walked out of the ship, approaching the nearest tree with uneven steps. He stretched his hand, ready to touch the tree. He pulled back for a moment but pushed forward, undeterred. He felt the rough surface of the bark on his skin.
Slowly, Qymaen slid down to his knees, his forehead leaning against the tree, and passed into blissful oblivion.
—
In the next chapter:
Corlen leaned closer, speaking in a rushed tone. "Someone wants to speak to you. She says her patron can offer us weapons for our cause."
He raised a brow. Now that was surprising. "In return for what?" What could this person want? The Mystic Arts were certainly one since Tatooine did not possess any natural resources worth mentioning.
He shook his head. "She didn't say. She only requested a private meeting and promised to make it worth our time."
"No harm in hearing her out then," he said with an airy tone, getting up.
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