Archive of Our Own

"I regretfully am not well acquainted with the history of Kamino," Obi-Wan says with feigned innocence in his tone. The Kaminaon prime minister's assistant swiftly and slowly turns to look at him with that blank stare that is nearly as unsettling as the entirety of the stilted city.

Tipoca City has a certain sterility that makes it feel out of place among the wild tone of its surroundings. Outside the weather is raging— dark and wet and hanging on for dear life between the soppy fibers of his Jedi robes. Yet, one would hardly realize such a gale was pounding against the standalone structures of the Kaminaon city. The windows within the giant stilted structures are minimal. The few that he's seen on his tour of the cloning facilities were specially outfitted with holo screens to mask the dark and dreary weather. As he's led to meet the owner of the template DNA for these thousands of clones, Obi-Wan wonders if Kamino sees many dry days.

Considering these facilities seem to be doing everything to block out the outside world, he suspects not.

Or, rather than keeping things out, are they keeping things in?

It certainly feels like they’re hiding something.

"We live a quiet existence. Devoted to our work. Not involving ourselves in galactic politics or conflict."

"Yet you create an army?"

So maybe he isn’t as intent on remaining non-confrontational with the Kaminoans... Taun We doesn’t miss a step, though.

"Would you consider the shipbuilders that construct your Star Destroyers involving themselves in the war? Or the miners that dig up the material for blasters? We produce a product, Master Jedi. How you use what you order is out of our hands."

His stomach has been twisting itself in knots at the way the long-necked humanoids have been presenting the clones to him. Like they weren’t living, breathing humans.

As though they were some sort of product. Hell, Taun We described them as such just now. They list the clones' training and skills the same way one might include features of a droid. Obi-Wan had to play along blank-faced and diplomatic despite the fact he could feel the Life Force of thousands around him.

What am I to tell to the Council? That the Jedi has an army now? Is it even ethical to utilize such forces.

They pass a cluster of younglings— cadets, the Lama Su had called them. Their duplicate faces and hair and clothes and the practice blasters held in their arms as though they rattled DC-17's in the cradle do not distract from the plumpness of their cheeks and the vulnerability in their eyes.

On the other hand, is it ethical to leave these boys in this place? Obi-Wan worries about their fate if the Jedi refuse to commandeer this army. The cloners do not exactly exude warmth and humanity. In fact, they're nothing like any humanoid Obi-Wan has ever encountered.

Coruscant is the melting pot of the galaxy, and yet he cannot remember ever spotting the lanky Kaminoans with their rubbery blue-gray skin and glassy eyes. Obi-Wan attempted to put in an inquiry as to their speciation only to find they are solely categorized as "Kaminoan" in the sparse databases he received results.

Of course, the galaxy is vast and ever-expanding. Obi-Wan is no stranger to encountering the unknown. But Kamino is not unknown since Dex had underground knowledge of their existence. Just... limited. That would be fine on its own if they weren't supposedly fulfilling an order for the Jedi.

The origins of all this are fishy. Obi-Wan has no idea what to make of it.

If it is true that the Jedi Council requested this army, why was Kamino's existence wiped from the archives? Why is there so little on their species?

"Right you are," he dismisses the remainder of the conversation. Still no new information. Still more questions. The fact they are so cryptic about their own history only adds to his worries. It is all one massive red flag being drowned by endless oceans and constant rain. Obi-Wan has a very bad feeling about all of it.

The Jedi knight follows the Prime Minister's aid down a long corridor. One of the few with exterior windows that face out onto the stormy sea. He remains vigilant to Taun We's position until a flash of movement in the distance draws Obi-Wan's gaze.

Far on the horizon, the gray clouds of the storm blend into the choppy waves of the endless sea. Between there and where he stands, there isn't much to see besides the repetitive rolling of white caps and rain. No craft nor creature to account for the flicker in his peripheral.

Seeing things after a long journey through hyperspace isn't abnormal, but a strange discomfort prods at the Jedi. He wishes he knew more about this planet and the creatures that inhabit it. All he knows is what Dex knew: they're cloners. Self-described loners that may or may not be dangerous depending on the price he's willing to pay.

The Jedi wipes the rain from his eyes and finally ducks beneath the covered passage. Obi-Wan does not have money, but he has the Force. He hopes that is enough.

Obi-Wan has decent hope that speaking to the bounty hunter will clear some things up as well.

The human man that answers the door bears that same face as the hundreds of others Obi-Wan saw on his tour, but Jango is more worn and rugged than his genetically identical offspring. The Jedi sizes him up as they talk, not missing his boy’s attempts to hide the plates of armor stashed in an adjoining room.

Though nothing is directly answered, Obi-Wan does know that despite his claims, Jango Fett has not been on Kamino this entire time. He's a clue to the assassination attempts on Senator Amidala, if not the perpetrator himself.

When Obi-Wan is escorted from the residence he can feel the rise in panic through the Force. Jango and Boba Fett are going to run— which makes Obi-Wan’s next moves much clearer.

Jango does run.

He also chooses to fight.

When he's thrown to the ground in a sopping wet mess of cloak and his own too-long hair, Obi-Wan pleads to the Force for this damned rain to let up. It’s difficult enough facing a Mandalorian in hand-to-hand combat when there isn’t water blurring his vision.

When Obi-Wan is slipping down the side of the flight platform, he curses the stilted structures of Tipoca City. Should he fall over the edge he may lose the Fetts altogether— assuming he can find a way back up from the treacherous looking waters below.

When the same cord that pulls Obi-Wan over the edge once and for all catches him a few meters from the edge, Obi-Wan dares to believe the Force has cut him a break.

A sentiment that is quickly replaced by the reminder of its cruel sense of humor.

The cord breaks— or rather, is cut by his beskar-clad opponent. Obi-Wan's stomach flips from the downward motion as he free falls toward the turbulent Kaminoan ocean below. The Force could cushion his fall, but there is little he can do to prevent it with his abilities. There is not a second to waste.

As the cord gathers in his hand, he redistributes the weight to throw the grappling hook that Jango oh-so-conveniently left attached. Obi-Wan swings it the best his lack of adequate leverage can manage, aiming for the railing of the walkways that zig-zag into the lower levels of Tipoca City. The grappling hook sails through the stormy air with more than enough gusto to reach Obi-Wan's target that will allow him to swing to safety.

He watches it arc, applying just enough nudging with the Force that it should wrap around the railing. If Obi-Wan is quick enough in climbing back up, he just might be able to catch the bounty hunter in his escape.

Well, that would be possible if the hook didn't miss its mark. He watches it all happen in slow motion. The grappling hook sailing toward the railing and then passing in front of it completely. It might be comical if the Jedi didn't now have to face the consequences of his slack rope and the unrelenting pull of Kamino’s gravity.

Obi-Wan's body rotates forward from the force of his throw and he's met with the dark, rolling waves that greet him with increasing eagerness. He frantically fights against the push of the gale-force winds and the blinding rain streaming down his face and into his eyes— claws at the air to try to get himself upright because even the cushion of the Force can't completely absorb the slap of his body hitting the water at such a speed.

As the understructures of Tipoca City blur past him, Obi-Wan draws in his last breath.

Hitting the water is more like being swallowed into an abyss. It does not hurt nearly as much as Obi-Wan anticipated it would. As much as it should have hurt considering the awkward angle he broke the surface at. He expected it to feel like his body was hitting duracrete, but instead, it acted as a cradle to his plummet. An embrace that curled around him and pulled the Jedi deep into its rapid currents. The gentility of it all is so surprising he forgets his urgency for a moment.

Until his ears start popping, that is.

Here and now, a voice that has grown faint with time whispers at the back of his mind. Obi-Wan curses to himself as he twists against the current to shrug his cloak off and access his rebreather device. He hums as he does so to try and equalize the building pressure in his lungs and ears. Even with the weight off his back and the rebreather now securely between his lips, Obi-Wan feels himself sinking deeper.

He kicks his feet, but it's almost like he's attempting to swim through empty space. Even when he loses his socks and boots, Obi-Wan finds himself unable to catch the water between his cupped hands or make progress despite the rhythmic kicking of his legs. He tries to remain calm, the lack of grasp he's able to achieve on the water troubles him with increasing magnitude.

Why... this isn't water at all, is it?

The realization strikes Obi-Wan as hard as the water should have felt when he tumbled into it. What does he know about Kamino besides it exists where the Temple maps say nothing does? Its oceanic terrain was as much as a surprise as its very existence. The rain seemed water-like enough that he never considered the possibility that he could be dealing with a substance he's completely unprepared for.

Then what is it?

Obi-Wan has no answer for that. Neither does he have time to contemplate the possible alternatives to the liquid substance he's suspended within because he realizes the tiny blip of daylight hovering above him hasn't grown smaller in the last few seconds. He's stopped sinking, but his feet have not hit the ground.

Reaching this sort of equilibrium in the absence of kicking and pulling is confusing... and makes him feel horribly vulnerable. Obi-Wan tries to search for some sort of reason, but there is not much to see.

By all literal definitions of the word, Obi-Wan is blind. Kamino's stormy topside and the depth of his plummet into the ocean have blocked out most access of light this deep. Were these seas he knew anything about, he might not be so stressed.

But a chill goes up his spine as eyes somewhere in the murky waters zero in on his location.

Obi-Wan isn’t alone.

Kamino's ocean is decidedly not water but that has not hindered the organisms that are teeming with life around him. He can feel them all, from the plankton suspended all around him to the larger aquatic dwellers that lurk somewhere in the billions of kilometers of uninterrupted ocean. They are strong conduits of the Force— more so than the average sea creature Obi-Wan has come across. Though Kamino did not strike him as a particularly dense locus of Force activity, it appears there is much more lying below the surface.

There are a few creatures that dare venture closer. His presence seems to have sparked some curiosity among the ocean's inhabitants. Obi-Wan sees this as a chance. If he can lure a fish close enough to reach out through the Force and establish a temporary bond, he can hitch a ride back to the surface.

Maybe he won't be too far behind Jango's fleeing ship.

Maybe he won't run out of oxygen in his rebreather...

Or have to consider the harrowing reality of how to swim when the liquid that has encased him seems completely resistant to such an activity.

Life in this ocean is a particular sort of hope he's happy to latch onto. If these animals have found a way to navigate these waters, then they can aid him in getting out.

The Jedi stretches out his arms and concentrates his pulses of the Force into the particular directions that he can feel the Force presences of certain organisms.

"I am not here to hurt you," he projects, "I only need your help."

The last thing he expects is a response.

"And you believe we would help an outsider from the top side?"

His muscles go rigid, freezing in the outstretched position. Animals... animals communicate in feelings. Positives and negatives and if the bond is strong enough there maybe can be more, but never has a non-sentient responded.

Which... which means...

"You... you have responded to me. You are sentient?"

He can't pinpoint the exact location of the mind that speaks into his. Just that they are near enough to sense him and telepathically communicate. There is no tone to this sentient's message, but the implications of its word choices unsettle him a great deal.

"Sentience is a construct you humans created. I am one, and I am all. Just as you are, human."

"One with the Force?"

A deep rumble disturbs the water around him as though a large exhale has brushed right past his body. His heart clenches with what is now infringing into the territory of anxiety.

"More meaningless names."

"What do you call it? I wish to learn," diplomacy takes over in the absence of Obi-Wan's usually calm mind.

"You say one thing, but your intentions are far from that."

Obi-Wan isn't quite sure what to say. He does wish to gain understanding into this strange being that lies in the darkness. Even if he also wishes for aid.

"I am the one powerless to your will in this place. I cannot offer anything but my word that I am earnest in desiring no malice to you or your domain. I only wish to hear whatever you may choose to share."

The silence that follows is far more unsettling than the disembodied voice. Obi-Wan turns himself in circles as though that will make a difference.

"Are you still there?"

The sentient— or whatever it wishes to be called as it does not answer his question. It remains concealed. Assuming, of course, it is even still there at all.

Obi-Wan tries to reach out with the Force again, but his pulses hit an invisible wall.

He tries again, the same result.

Again.

While before he could sense all the wildlife of the sea, now he finds... nothing. It's as though the Force has pulled away from him completely, leaving him horribly exposed and suspended in darkness with nothing but the short supply of oxygen he continues to drain.

He's still not alone, though. His flesh raises as eyes somewhere in the darkness stalk his sedentary position.

"So. Are you here to help me or kill me?"

The liquid around him is unsettled. As though something is swimming past him. Or circling him like a predator would its prey.

"Hm. Humans and their perfectly ordered views of humanity. Always pristine and separated into one side or the other."

"You've encountered many humans, then?"

"Many, yes. Most were unresponsive. Yet, they all have these similar thoughts. To live or die— as though those are the only two paths a life can take."

"And what happened to those other humans you met?" Obi-Wan slowly rotates himself in the direction he can vaguely sense the creature. Whether he is correct about his orientation is still to be seen.

"They learned what alternate paths exist." Obi-Wan is unsure of how to interpret that reply. Luckily, the voice continues, somehow sounding louder as it echoes within his head.

"Jedi believe there is an in-between. A place where the dead and living meet and mingle."

"So you are not blind to such concepts.”

"I do not pretend to understand, but I would be a fool to deny the existence of such a thing."

He feels as though he's diffusing a bomb. One wrong word and he will get to truly find out if there are other options to living or dying. But the Force hums with satisfaction that is not his own. The Jedi does not dare feel relieved yet, though.

"A Jedi you are?"

"Keepers of peace and practitioners of the ways of the Force."

"Peace," the creature seems amused, now. "As though there is such a thing."

"Perhaps. Or perhaps not. It is merely our purpose."

"I have met Jedi before. They did not share your purpose, though."

Master Sifo-Dyas' mysterious absence certainly comes to mind.

"You know of my identity but I do not know of yours."

"The topsiders call me Dagon."

"And is that your name? What do you desire I call you?"

The sea around him stirs again.

"Dagon is acceptable."

"Pleased to make your acquaintance, Dagon. I am Obi-Wan."

Another sputter, rhythmic and strong. Almost like a hearty laugh obstructed by a wall of bubbles.

"I know.”

“Then I presume you also know my oxygen is running low. While this has been an enlightening chat, I must humbly ask for help.”

"You assume this ocean is the opposite of the air you breathe, though that is not the case."

"What is this sea composed of then?"

"A substance beyond your comprehension."

"That clears things up," he huffs with a bit of growing frustration. His attempts to not anger the being are quickly declining as a swift violent death he will hardly see coming is somewhat preferable to the slow slip of drowning. As though on cue, his rebreather begins to beep with a soft warning tone.

"Remove your breather, human."

Obi-Wan is quite sure his human lungs are not meant to breathe in liquids, though he is quickly running out of options for escape on his own terms. He has mere minutes left on his oxygen supply at best. He still has no clue what to make of Dagon and its ability to communicate with him telepathically, Obi-Wan has trusted more dangerous rivals for less.

The Jedi reaches up and removes his rebreather. The liquid sea immediately moved to fill the empty space of his mouth and nose, and Obi-Wan hesitates as the air in his lungs grows stale and burns the inside of his chest.

He relaxes as much as he can and breathes.

There is no equal to the sensation of something other than air pouring down his windpipe. His body is heavy and head spinning as he cannot even muster the air to cough.

I'm drowning! I'm—

"Breathe, human. Your trust will sustain you,” Dagon’s words overpower the panic leaving in bubbles pouring from his mouth

"I cannot simply will my body's physiology to support breathing water!" Obi-Wan cries.

"And yet..."

The ache of his chest remains, but Obi-Wan realizes with utter shock that he is still conscious. Not breathing in the way he is used to, but the spinning has ceased into general lightheadedness that could very well be the pressure bearing down on him.

"I do not understand. Why can I breathe?"

"You have dared to consider the alternate paths. Come, human. You have gained some favor in this place."

"I cannot... see... or move," Obi-Wan replies rather disjointedly. He is still reeling over the fact he's breathing right now.

"Have you tried?"

Annoyance ticks him— of course, he's tried. But alas, when Obi-Wan blinks a few times, the pitch-black darkness fades into more of a grayscale. Still dark, but as he turns now he can make out the dark outline of a figure looming. If it is near or far Obi-Wan cannot tell. He has no concept of perception with his limited vision.

He tests out his movement, surprised to see that he easily glides forward as though he was never trapped by the glass floor of the oceans all this time. The blur of darkness moves as well.

"Follow."

Fearing he will lose this ability to move and swim if he does not listen, Obi-Wan obeys. He follows the dark blur, never managing to close the distance between them. Dagon seems quite intent on never allowing him to catch up or fall behind. It remains a blur. Dark. Somewhat bulbous at one end, from what he can make out and tapering off.

Obi-Wan's connection to the Force is still disjointed, too. His mind too muddled to sense the schools of haddock and snappers that venture near to him until they are swimming past his eyes. Obi-Wan did not notice the gradual lightening of the waters until a rather large opah swims below him, its red-hued scales catching his attention. Obi-Wan did not think they swam closer to the surface— if anything, the pressure against his body feels even stronger— yet, his eyes have adjusted as though he's staring up at the stars. He can now identify the outlines of underwater mountains speckled with reefs of orange and yellow.

"It's quite beautiful down here," Obi-Wan projects. Echos of unpinpointable rumbles off the ocean floor, making his heart clench with the anxiety that he's said something wrong.

"You expected otherwise?"

Though still lacking tone, there is a lightness that accompanies Dagon’s response.

"The city above was quite... clinical."

“It is the way of evolution to embrace the idea of modernity to the degree of excess. Yet with every step they try to take away from the ways of the antiquity, they unknowingly circle back around.”

The cryptic puzzle of Kamino’s true nature is a complex one. Despite Dagon speaking in adages, it’s more information than Obi-Wan was able to divulge from the Kaminoans.

“You are indigenous to this planet, aren’t you? And the Kaminoans... they are colonists? Invaders?”

Dagon does not reply right away because they seem to have reached their destination. Obi-Wan comes to a slow stop that is not of his own doing. He looks up and around him for some clue as to why he’s stationary again— until he realizes the reason is below him.

The ocean has given away to a deep drop-off that could be a hundred meters down or could be a thousand. The only reason he knows it has a bottom and is not just an endless pit is the spot of white that protrudes out from an unseen base.

It’s a monolith, he realizes, as he descends to get a closer look. One with sides that are at least four times his arm span and seemingly sculpted of solid marble.

He may have needed light to see the carvings etched into the side of the monolith if it did not provide its own strange glow. It is light by the very definition, but it does not emit itself as light usually would. There is no glow in the surrounding waters or the cliffside of the drop-off. It’s light if light were darkness and darkness were light. The monolith exists within these waters outside of the bounds of such states.

The monolith invites Obi-Wan to see the carvings— hieroglyphics of colored pictures and symbols. If it is a language, it is one Obi-Wan has never seen before. The pictures tell their own story, though. One that answers his question as though Dagon was waiting for him to ask all along.

A blue planet with three moons is etched on the smooth marble. The oceans did not always cover every surface, but by the time the curious immigrants arrived, the mountains had submerged themselves beneath the surface.

The humans came anyway. They staked their claim where the seas were shallow enough to build homes onto stilts. They believed there to be treasures hidden on this world. Why else would it still remain untouched by the rest of the galaxy?

This was an answer that was eventually discovered.

“We called this planet Innsm’th,” Dagon returns suddenly to the confines of Obi-Wan’s mind— his mind that is not so confined after all. “When the mountains still broke the surface, the weather was more treacherous than it is in the present day. Constant cyclones circled and deadly tidal waves crashed among the little land that hadn’t been weathered away. Life was never meant to exist above the water on Innsm’th.”

Obi-Wan sees these waves in the pictorial depictions. How they ravaged some of the colonies that were attempted to be established. How the humans did not take this as a warning, but as motivation to built stronger.

“Others had tried to come to Innsm’th before them. The Kaminoans were the only ones who stayed long enough to earn our respect.”

“Who is our?”

Dagon does not answer this question either.

The humans figured out how to construct in the deeper waters. The waves did not grow as large here and the storms were not as treacherous. But in the deeper waters came their first encounters with the inhabitants of the so-called uninhabited planet.

The drawings of the creatures crawling from the water and to the human’s homesteads make Obi-Wan feel as though they are crawling up his body. A sensation of unsettle that grows more and more poignant the longer he circles down the sides of this mysterious monolith. He wants to swim away, but he can’t. His gaze is glued to the story as though he’s being held there.

If his loss of will wasn’t keeping him right in place, fear would have sufficed in that task.

The creatures of the deep revealed themselves to the humans.

A few rotations around the monolith later, the first generation of offspring were born of the beings of the deep and the humans. Amphibious hybrids, though they seemed to take on the physical features of humans.

At first, that is.

“The hybrids... they changed as they grew. Morphed from human to— to the Kaminoans that I met today,” Obi-Wan is unable to turn his head so he searches the little bit of peripheral ocean he can see with his eyes. “They were once human.”

“Generations ago, yes. No new humans have moved to what they now call Kamino in many, many rotations.”

Dagon speaks as though they were there. Obi-Wan has no doubt they were.

“Why is that?”

“Humans are puritanical creatures when it comes to protecting race. Word disseminated of the children of the originals and my Deep Ones. Fear is a powerful motivator, Jedi. Something you know well.”

The ocean shifts. The temperature drops.

Obi-Wan’s body goes rigid.

Begins to quiver in cold as numbness spreads through his toes.

“Fear is not something you are used to, though, is it?” Dagon still lacks tone, yet Obi-Wan can feel a smile accompanying the question.

“Jedi are— Jedi release their fear. We do not harness it as that can lead— can lead to the Dark Side,” he is unable to mask the shake in his voice. It is merely from the cold, but it does not stop him from sounding afraid. “We feel it, though. Perhaps more than most.”

“Are you afraid now?”

“No,” The uncomfortable emotion that creeps up Obi-Wan’s spine is well on its way to fear, though. “Should I be?”

Rumbles echo from beneath. From the darkness.

Echoes of hard surfaces of different materials clashing together.

Scratching.

Slipping.

But growing louder.

Growing nearer.

Obi-Wan looks down into the darkness.

“Continue with the story,” Dagon says.

The monolith shakes. Obi-Wan looks at the depictions of the humans thinning in number. Their numbers were limited, but the Deep Ones— that’s what Dagon called them— they still thrived in the ocean that they have occupied for thousands of years.

The hybrids were dwindling. Unable to reproduce on their own. They were as hardheaded as their human predecessors, though. Determined to keep their claim.

Obi-Wan’s eyes widen. Of course. “They became cloners.”

“They learned how to fear, is what they did. Deep Ones do not possess such trivial emotions.”

Cold numbness spreads through his toes and up his legs. Obi-Wan’s breath hitches nails digging against unsanded marble shriek against his ears. The bubbles grow denser. Obstructing his vision from the surface of the monolith in a way that makes it seem like the pictures of the humans are running.

Running from the Deep Ones that so easily outnumber them.

Somehow it feels like it’s raising him up and drowning him at the same time.

“If fear is what you want from me, you will not get it,” Obi-Wan says as the bubbles begin to dwindle.

“Then you are stronger than you appear, Obi-Wan Kenobi.”

“I am not afraid to die. I only fear what may be left behind if I do.” He thinks of Anakin who is somewhere on Naboo right now with Senator Amidala. Probably getting himself into trouble, knowing the two of them. He’s only a boy still coming into his own— but he would be okay. He would carry on. “If that is all I fear, then I know the galaxy would sustain without me. So I have nothing left to fear.”

“Yet, you’ve made that human mistake again,” Dagon tuts. Pressure encloses around Obi-Wan’s ankles. And then his knees. He refuses to look down, but the unknowing does not stop his heart from going at the rate of a Lower Coruscant speeder. “The binary of life and death.”

His throat closes. Obi-Wan opens his mouth but his vocal protests are unable to navigate the vertigo that has spun the world around on a rope.

“You say you do not fear to die. Perhaps you fear to live, but you do not fear me now. This is your claim, Obi-Wan Kenobi.”

Obi-Wan is suddenly pitched forward. His shoulder slams into the monolith, and he is forced to look down into the dark pit of the ocean crevice.

Wrapped around the monolith just before it gives way to darkness is a single tentacle-like appendage. Massive, without a beginning or an end. Obi-Wan follows the trail of scaly skin and the thorny spine, but he’s trapped between the marble and the sharp talons that pin him against the underwater statue with no regard for the massive pressure that makes his ribs crack and his spine feel as though it’s twisting.

And then a voice. Not in his head.

A low growl places against the pulse point of his neck. Shockingly honeyed. Penetrating, yet sotto voce.

“But do you fear the path that is not living or death?”

He does not need to ask what that path is. For before his eyes, Obi-Wan watches his feet vanish from where they once hung beneath him. Then his legs. It is not the ease of illusion, though, as he can feel every bone falling away as the ligaments and tendons dissolve as though acid as seeped beneath his skin.

“What are... what are you doing to me?” he screams out through the Force as the bone-shattering pain reaches his hips and the hodgepodge of his internal structures start to press against the elasticity of his skin as though they’re trying to escape.

“Consider it a gift, Obi-Wan Kenobi. You have proven yourself worthy.”

“Worthy... Worthy of what?”

The talons wrapped around him suddenly let up, and Obi-Wan is pushed backwards from the monolith until he’s parallel to the surface of the water that is hopelessly, hopelessly far above him. Yet, he can see his reflection as though he were peering onto a glassy pond.

Oh Force, Obi-Wan pleads. Help me.

There is no reply as the scaly green skin appears beneath his human flesh that is shed. Neither the Force or Dagon, wherever they have disappeared to. Obi-Wan squirms yet he cannot look away as his lean body is replaced by a sturdy trunk and thick, muscular legs with webbed feet.

Auburn hair halos around him in loose pieces. His beard slips off as though it were painted on in the first place. When the scales reach his face and hack off his nose and ears, he blinks and the sea is in full light and vibrant color. His vision is a blown up field that includes even his previous periphery in perfect resolution.

Enough he can now see the crowd of lurking scaled beings creeping up around him.

Beings of gilled lungs and gaping mouths with pin-sharp teeth that stare at him with their bulbous eyes. They are grotesque beings of nightmares, but then again...

Now so is Obi-Wan.

He backs up, but hits a wall. A wall of others that have come. Their webbed hands, slimy but strong grab him around the wrists and the ankles and the waist. They trap him into a crushing embrace and he feels them start to pull down.

Obi-Wan stares up at the surface. As it turns out, the rains do stop on the planet of Innsm’th.

The sunshine strikes the surface of the ocean and penetrates down in refracted rays.

Warmth he can see. Imagine from his memories. But cannot touch.

They slowly release him as they grow deeper. As his elbows stop swinging and his will grows complacent. “There is no point in fighting what has already been done.”

Somewhere he can feel Dagon’s approval. The way his heart leaps with gratitude is an unfamiliar sensation.

Obi-Wan takes one last look at the surface.

He tries to remember what he was so concerned about getting back to.

The feeling of stress and anxiety still dwindles but it feels... unwarranted

If he cannot even remember what was vexing him, it mustn’t be important.

Right?

The flock of Deep Ones thins. They can feel his resolution.

They trust him. And he, them. He is one of them and them, he. Followers of the Father of the Deep. 

Obi-Wan turns away from the rays of the evening light plunges deeper.