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The Force offers knowledge and insight. Sometimes these offerings are hazy, unclear. Mere wisps of a future that may be.
Others are more certain.
And this – Qui-Gon struck on the Sith’s hateful blade – this one is certain. Obi-Wan’s mere sight he can dismiss, tell himself that he had seen it worse than it truly was… but the Force held the truth. This is, will be, a fatal wound.
The grief of that certain future spills back into the present, twisting and snarling and warping into hate, surging forward with Obi-Wan as he throws himself off-balance to his own detriment.
Clarity returns almost too late. Dangling over the precipice in more ways than one, Obi-Wan remembers himself. Remembers his training.
The grief-fueled anger is still there, coiled inside him, screaming that it is the only way out, the only way to make things right. Never acknowledging that it is what brought him here.
Obi-Wan resists its temptations, and loosens the coils. It is without anger, without any thoughts of revenge, and with the acceptance that he may very well fail (but even so, he will not fall) that his hands, and his master’s saber, are guided to strike the Sith down.