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To put it lightly, Mortis and the beings there unsettled him. While his sensitivity to the Force increased a little bit more, he thought that there should have been a greater change in him. But he didn’t. Instead, he could only look at Anakin and Ahsoka with a heavy heart. Mortis left a deep mark on them. Their psyches changed. And he was still the same.
His memories of their time there remained untouched by the Father, Son, and Daughter. He remembered Anakin’s test. The Daughter in her griffin form holding him. Her grip was firm, strong, but there was a gentleness in it. He looked over to Ahsoka in the Son’s grip. There was a wince of pain in words. Apparently, it was not the Son’s nature to be considerate like the Daughter. He heard the Father’s words to Anakin, yet he felt no fear for himself. The Daughter would give him a quick, painless death if it came to it. He would be alright, but he worried for Ahsoka. But his padawan, now friend and brother, was not one to make that kind of choice. He witnessed the raw, unbridled power the young man held, saw the day turn to night and a strange, starlight world appear around them. Heard a glimpse of what Ahsoka heard every moment. And when Anakin completed the Father’s test, he hoped that they would leave with nothing but strange memories. But no, the test was only the start of a weird dream, turned nightmare. The Son was slow to let go. Somehow, he infiltrated their ship and took Ahsoka. While Anakin set off to retrieve his padawan, Obi-Wan set off to find the Daughter and the Father, hoping that they could knock sense into the Son. (But it was all about perspective).
He remembered finding Ahsoka again, after he retrieved the dagger. As he entered the Son’s towered cathedral, he faintly heard lightsabers clashing. He joined Anakin with his own saber lit. He saw Ahsoka, poisoned by the Son’s power. Orange skin dulled, dark lines in her face, montrals, lekku. Like a porcelain doll, broken then pasted together. She looked as if all goodness, all light was burned out. But most startling was the yellow gleam of her eyes. The eyes of a Jedi fallen to the level of a Sith. Despite the padawan’s severely misguided belief that she could take on both on her own, he had no desire to fight her. Instead, switched out with Anakin every now and then.
Of course, it still did not end there. The Son unleashed scarlet lightning on the Father, subduing the ancient being. While passing the Dagger to Anakin, Ahsoka intercepted it. How could they have even forgotten her – that she was still not right, not her true self? And she brought the Dagger to the Son and handed it to him despite their pleas. In that moment, she fell further from their reach. In a single moment, her dulled features were shrouded by the grey coldness of death.
Then the Son raised the Dagger to smite his Father, but the Daughter took the blow. No parent wanted to see their child die before them, yet she faced her Father. The only explanation he had was that she loved her brother. The Son knew what he did and for as long as he exists, he will always remember that sudden gasp before she collapsed. The Daughter granted her brother mercy from having to see her face each time the memory replayed itself.
He witnessed Anakin glow brighter than the star as the remainder of the Daughter’s life force transfer into Ahsoka. A final act of love by the Daughter. Through Ahsoka, she will live on, spreading life and light. But then for light to shine, there must be darkness. He later chased Anakin to a volcano, called the Well of the Darkside (a well of heat and flowing fire, a burning darkness). His best friend was already a changed man. Blue eyes burned yellow. Voice roughened to a dangerous edge. But there was terror, grief, and desperation in the darkness that swirled around Anakin.
He commed Ahsoka, who had gone off to figure out what happened to the shuttle, “I need you to damage the shuttle’s systems before Anakin returns.”
“What!” she exclaimed. Her voice returned to its usual chirp. “I just fixed it!” a tinge of disappointment and frustration in her tone.
“The Son is with Anakin,” he explained.
“Ohhhhh…” was the only response. And he heard sparks flying before the transmission cut off. Some time later, she commed him again and rescued him from the rising magma. Together, they set off to find the Father.
He remembered the final confrontation. Even when he was knocked back by the Son, he still heard it all. Realized that while three may exist, two there must always be. The brokenness in the Son’s voice revealed the layers of the Darkside of the Force. The Son might have been the physical manifestation of the Darkside, yet the Darkside was not purely evil. There was goodness, misguided as it may be. Even in darkness, there must be light, or it wouldn’t exist.
And now, now since they were off Mortis, he could only silently plead with them to share their thoughts with him. They were tired, and so was he. But could they not be tired together? But no, he was relegated to the sidelines.
After debriefing with Rex, he headed to his quarters to write up the report. Anakin had an extreme dislike for paperwork, and Ahsoka could use a break. Instead of opening a datapad, he quietly reflected on the changes in his padawan and grand-padawan. When he patted Ahsoka’s hand, it was cooler than it should be. He spoke to Anakin, and there was a subtle glint of red beneath ocean blue eyes. Both held themselves more aloof when they returned to the Temple or associated with other Jedi. Their interactions with him even seemed a bit more reserved than it used to be, not that they noticed for the change was so subtle. But he knew, he felt. He wrote that the followed the signal and found nothing. (It was nothing from the perspectives of the troops, so he was not lying per say).
He continued to keep an eye on the youngest two in his lineage in the following days. They were not the same. Anakin was still a bright, burning supernova in the Force, but he felt a darkness, cold red, swirling within. And his supernova aura took shape into wings, like that of a gargoyle. Ahsoka also was a beautiful star, but a golden cloud of jade surrounded her. A cloud of starry dust in the elegant shape of some flying creature.
He later saw them standing together in the Room of a Thousand Fountains. Silence between them. When he entered, they both turned, and the light fell just so to reveal eyes glistening with unshod tears. The gaze of two people who knew they were lost. They were both too young for this war. Ahsoka should not have had to learn to fight both the physical and mental battles on her first day as padawan. Anakin should not have had to bear weight of the Jedi rules, the war, and the prophecy. (And he should have waited before taking Anakin as his padawan). Both Anakin and Ahsoka were tired. Maybe they wouldn’t talk about it, maybe they were not ready. So, he invited them to his quarters each night. He made tea. They said they were alright, but he knew they were not. They talked about everything but Mortis.
And then the next assignment came that would separate him from them. They needed him, even if they didn’t realize it. He pulled out his bag. It was always packed in these times. (It shouldn’t have to be like this though). He did not know how to say goodbye, well, he could say goodbye. But there was always so much more to say, and so much that was left unsaid. He wanted to tell them that he loved them, even though they were all tired. He longed to remind them that they were not alone. He wanted to tell them that he’d be there for them if the ghosts of Mortis pulled them apart and they forgot who they were. He was there, and he understood. Instead, he joked around, lightly saying that he’d see them later and not make him rescue them, again.