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Maul barely felt the strike. The burn was distant, like an echo of someone else's pain.
His arms buckled, and his saber came apart in his hands. His legs gave out, though not through any malfunction. The cool, heavy bed of sand rose to catch him as he fell. His shoulders landed against the brace of an arm.
His head lolled, and he met the blue eyes gazing down at him like dim moons. The face they belonged to was worn by age and weather, almost unrecognizable, but those eyes Maul would know anywhere. There was no hate in them now, not even anger, just sadness—a deep, weary sadness, the product of a life that could not be measured in mere years.
Maul tried for a breath and choked on it. He reflexively reached out for an anchor, a lifeline, anything, and his hand closed on Kenobi's cloak. He clutched it tight, even as he felt the strength leeching from his fingers. Kenobi did not try to break his grip.
After all these years, all he survived, all he endured, was this how his story ended? Was this the reward reaped from all the suffering sown upon him? Was Kenobi to outlive him? Was Sidious to continue in his poisonous ways unchallenged?
No. This couldn't be the end of all. There had to be something, anything he could cling to.
He tugged weakly at Kenobi's cloak and gasped, "Tell me. . . is it the chosen one?"
Kenobi hesitated, then gave an almost imperceptible nod.
"He is."
Maul exhaled in a great rush. A tear drew a damp stripe through the dust on his face.
He felt a tremendous weight lift from his shoulders. He couldn't feel his legs anymore, as if they knew they were no longer needed. The pain was gone, cast away on the wind.
Like a cool, misting rain after a wildfire, relief pierced the hazy despair. Sidious, the sith, the empire—those burdens were no longer his.
Kenobi's eyes were beautiful, he thought with sudden clarity. How long had those eyes haunted him, guided him like beacons through the fog of misery and madness? How many times had the memory of them drawn him back from the brink of death? And now those eyes watched over the One, he who would bring balance, justice.
Those eyes. . .
With the very last of his strength, Maul heaved himself up, seized Kenobi by the collar, and crushed their mouths together. Kenobi made a small noise of surprise, but didn't pull away.
His lips were warm. His beard was rough but not unpleasant. Maul kept his eyes shut tight, but another tear escaped.
This soft, simple warmth, this quiet intimacy amid the vast dark nothing. . . when had he last felt something like this? Had he ever, in his life, felt something like this? He couldn't recall; he supposed it didn't matter.
He was glad it was Kenobi, he realized. It could have been Sidious, or one of his own short-lived apprentices, or one of the countless other foes he'd slain. After all he and Kenobi had been through, after all they'd done to each other, there was a bittersweetness to this. Yes, Maul was glad to be with Kenobi in the end.
He maintained the kiss until he couldn't hold himself up anymore. Then he fell limp in Kenobi's arms. Faces flashed before his eyes, one after another, fading as quickly as they came.
He saw Savage, strong and sure and loyal to the last moment. He saw his greatest apprentice, his dear Devon, as lovely as she was fierce. He saw his mother, felt her clawed fingers ghost across his cheek. He saw Rook Kast, his most trusted lieutenant, and Icarus and Scorn, though he hadn't known the latter two for long. He recalled the brief period between the brothers' deaths when he and Icarus slept back to back, never exchanging a word but both silently taking solace in the presence of a surrogate.
No one would mourn his dead now. No one would take revenge in their names. But while the slim chance persisted that Sidious was not invincible, their deaths were not yet in vain.
"He will avenge us," Maul promised them.
Between the faces, he found Kenobi's eyes. His gaze traveled further, up to the stars, to the moons. It was a beautiful sky to die under.
His hand slackened, and Kenobi's robe slipped free. His breath left him.
For the first and last time in his life, Maul understood peace.