Iryshi was ensconced in blackness. Cold, solid blackness that seeped down inside of her. She tried to breathe, found that she couldn't, and started to panic until she realized she didn't need to breathe. In fact, she couldn't feel a pulse when she touched her wrist.
   From somewhere behind her, a soft voice said, "You made it."
   She turned, and saw her father, standing not ten feet away. He wasn't glowing anymore, but then, neither was she, and she realized that people who die must see the dead like they see the living. Normally.
   What a strange thought, she thought to herself.
   "I made it?" she blurted.
   "Yes. You've come to the realm of the Jedi Knights, those of us who have died, at least." Her father smiled and took a step forward, and Iryshi could see someone standing behind him, a woman, by the looks of it, with dark hair and deep blue eyes.
   Iryshi's eyes.
   "We are nothing but branches of the Force now," Qui-Gon was saying. "We don't exist in any other plain but this one. No one can sense us or see us unless we will them to."
   "Will them to?" Iryshi repeated.
   Qui-Gon nodded, and suddenly there were others, behind him, Erun Yvai and Mace and Ki-Adi and B'yea, all looking as they did in life.
   Qui-Gon continued, "Your job is now to talk to Obi-Wan. Let him see you, see that you're not gone forever. Let him know that you'll haunt him for a long time." He paused. "And stop him from killing Anakin."
 
 

Obi-Wan stood outside the desert hovel on the edge of the Jundland Wastes, and started walking. He would find Anakin. He would find him and kill him.
   Qui, long dead.
   Iryshi, dead.
   Erun, dead.
   Yvai, dead.
   Mace, dead.
   Everyone, dead or gone or missing or turned against him. Obi-Wan was alone, and he knew it.
   Someone laughed behind him, a soft, familiar sound. "You think you're alone," she said. "You think everyone's left you or turned against you or died."
   "Everyone is dead," without turning to face her. "They're gone."
   "But that's not stopping me from being here," Iryshi answered. "I'm not gone."
   Obi-Wan shook his head, finally looking back at Iryshi. She was glowing, radiant. Beautiful. As beautiful as he had ever seen her. Her hair in its usual braid, hanging down her back. No trace of lightsaber wound in the stomach.
   She reached for him, stopped a few inches away. "I... can't touch you anymore. Rules."
   He couldn't help but grin. "The dead have to follow rules?"
   She smiled. "Everyone has to follow rules. You have to follow them too."
   "Like what?"
   "Like you can't kill Skywalker. Not yet. It's not your job. Leave that for his son."
   "What difference will it make? He'll die, either way."
   "But if he dies now, there will be no New Order, and a young boy will never meet his father. Never become a Jedi."
   "I can train him."
   "I know." Her voice was so soft, so sad, it made him feel guilty.
   After a pause, he said, "Will there be things later, things you couldn't predict?"
   She laughed. "Obi-Wan, as of last night, I'm dead. I am now privy to some of the most interesting secrets in the galaxy; none of which I can reveal to you." She shrugged. "Rules."
   He snorted. "Rules," he echoed.
   She chuckled. "May the Force be with you, Obi-Wan Kenobi. You'll need it."
 
 

Anakin Skywalker laughed in the face of his former master, his voice coming out ragged through the breath filter that the medics had recently rigged up for him. "You've come to kill me," he chuckled. "A futile task. You wouldn't want to ruin the prophesies of that dear little lover of yours, would you?"
   Obi-Wan set his jaw and ignited his lightsaber. "I can't kill you, Anakin, but I can hurt you."
   Anakin laughed again and ignited his own weapon. "Can you now? Well then, let's see what you've got, Jedi."
   They crossed blades and began.
   Anakin struck with a raging, animal fury. Kenobi blocked and parried neatly, countering with his own feints and stabs. Anakin was grinned, still attacking ferally, showing no signs of tiring.
   Blue on red, red on blue, back, forth, parry, thrust, block, stab... Endlessly repetitive. Neither Jedi tired. Neither slowed, neither gave up until...
   "Aghhh!" Anakin fell back, a hole cut neatly into his stomach. Blood was rushing out. Obi-Wan stood over him, face solemn.
   "Well," he said, "I guess I found a part of you that hasn't been replaced by a machine, eh? How ironic."
   Anakin glared up at him, a wild, animal fury in his eyes. "I'll kill you yet, old man," he said.
   "Oh, I know you will," Obi-Wan murmered. "Iryshi told me so." And with that, Kenobi extinguished his saber, turned on his heel, and walked off into the desert. He didn't stay long enough to see the medics rush out to assist Anakin.
 
 

When he returned to the house, Amidala was in labor. She was gritting her teeth, grimacing in pain, as the medics crowded around her. Obi-Wan had arrived just in time to see the first, a boy, appear in the medic's arms.
   "It's a boy!" the medic announced, but Obi-Wan had sensed it already. A boy. Like in the prophecy.
   The next and last was a girl. Now that was something new. Iryshi had never predicted a girl. Obi-Wan found himself thinking back to their conversation. All the most interesting secrets of the galaxy....
 
 

She stood before him again. "You handled that well," she said softly. He stood, frowning at a sudden pain in his legs. An ache. He'd never felt that before. He was getting old, after all. Anakin was right to call him an old man.
   Turning back to Iryshi, he flashed some semblance of a smile. "I suppose I did, didn't I?"
   She nodded, her braid swinging at her back. "You caused him pain without killing him. Well done. He won't soon forget that."
   He turned toward a window, watching the double-sunset. "And how are his children?"
   "Luke is doing well with your brother, and Leia is fast becoming royalty on Alderaan. Amidala picked the perfect planet for her." Obi-Wan smiled.
    "Luke will have trouble with the farmer's life."
    "All part of his grand adventure. It'll work out; you'll see."
    He nodded again. "I know." When he turned around, she was gone.
    By the next day, he had cut off his dreadlock and his ponytail in grief. He didn't care if he could still contact Iryshi; she was dead, she couldn't touch him, and nothing could change that.
 
 

Anakin Skywalker, now Darth Vader, was laughing. He had a son. Incredible! A son! Amazing what one could see through the Force. Vader had sensed his wife and another, with her, and had broken off the connection, amazed. A son.
   Like in Iryshi's prophecy.
   He quickly shook those thoughts away. Iryshi was dead, and her prophesies with her. She had been wrong too many times to be trusted now. That's what Emperor Palpatine had told him. Too many times.
   Like when she said I'd turn to the Dark Side?
   Lucky.
   Like when she predicted her own death?
   A fluke of a guess. Lucky again.
   "I thought we Jedi don't believe in luck."
   "We don't."
    But it was of no matter. Iryshi was dead now, not a threat, not even an annoyance. And soon, Obi-Wan would be dead, and Yoda, and any Jedi left in the galaxy. Vader would make sure of that.
    Like we made sure Iryshi was no longer Force-attuned?
    Stop it, he commanded himself. Your thoughts must not betray you.
    Too late for that, isn't it?
 
 
 

Obi-Wan sat in a hard-backed chair facing one of the small windows in his Jundland Wastes home. He was watching the sands outside, shifting and swaying endlessly.
   An echo of laughter behind him. He turned; thought he saw a ghost, but it was gone.
   He looked back out the window, and smiled to himself.
   He had every confidence that this would turn out allright in the end.