The heat of Tatooine had a particular quality that day. Heavy, electric, as if the air itself was holding its breath before a sandstorm. But it wasn't sand that was coming. I felt it first, long before the engine roar that tore through the sky.
A wave of cold in the Force. An icy shadow spreading, smothering the natural song of the desert's life. It wasn't malicious, not yet. It was… mechanical. Inhuman. An absence where there should have been presence.
I looked up from the circuits I was realigning for Watto. Anakin, tinkering on a podracer engine, stopped dead, a hydrospanner wrench frozen in his hand.
"Did you feel that?" he whispered, his blue eyes wide.
I nodded slowly. "Something is coming."
The ship that landed in the Mos Espa junklands was not a usual sight. It was a Nubian J-type 327. Elegant, royal lines, a swan among crows. And on board… a signature in the Force that took my breath away. It was a pure, bright flame, like a diamond under the sun. Hers. And beside her, two familiar presences: a pillar of vigilant light and a ball of mischievous, canine energy.
Padmé. Qui-Gon. R2-D2.
The story was beginning.
Anakin was already gone, drawn to this new flame like a moth. I followed him, my heart pounding not with excitement, but with a terrible anxiety. The plan was to stay hidden. To not attract attention. But how do you stay in the shadows when your brother's destiny is playing out a few meters away?
We saw them arrive in the market, escorted by the unfortunate Jar Jar Binks. Qui-Gon Jinn, with his imposing stature and mountain-like calm. And her. The queen disguised as a handmaiden, but whose dignity shone brighter than any costume.
Anakin had eyes only for her. His wonder was palpable, a wave of joyful heat in the Force. I hung back, leaning against a wall, observing. I felt Qui-Gon's gaze. His attention first landed on Anakin, and his slight start was almost audible to me. He felt the potential, the ocean of raw power. Then his eyes, full of wisdom and curiosity, moved to me. His eyebrow raised, slight perplexity on his face. He felt something in me too, but it was different. Calm. Deep. Elusive. Like looking at the tranquil surface of a lake knowing it was abyssal.
He turned away, focused on the immediate task: finding a part for their ship.
Events accelerated. The race. The bet with Watto. Anakin's freedom, but not ours. Not mine. Not Shmi's.
It was a storm of emotions. Anakin's pure, blazing joy, his dream finally coming true. Shmi's wrenching pride and sorrow. And my own heart, torn apart. Part of me wanted to scream, to beg Qui-Gon to take me too. To take us all. My wisdom, my cursed wisdom, held me in place. Forbade me from disturbing the flow of events. Forbade me from getting too close to this Jedi whose perception was far too sharp.
It was the night before their departure that Qui-Gon finally spoke to me. I had isolated myself on the roof of the hovel, watching the stars, feeling the future rushing toward us like a runaway train.
"You are not like your brother," a calm voice said behind me.
I didn't startle. I had felt him approach. I turned to face Master Jinn.
"We are twins," I said, neutral.
"In flesh only, I think." He stepped closer, standing beside me. "Anakin's energy… it screams to the sky. Yours…" He narrowed his eyes, as if focusing better. "Yours whispers to the earth. It is ancient."
I remained silent. A lie would be useless. Silence was my only defense.
"Do you feel the blockade, up there?" he asked finally, changing the subject.
I nodded. "Fear. Anger. A shadow that grows."
His eyes lit up with renewed interest. "That is a very precise description for a boy who has never left Tatooine."
"I listen," I repeated, my mantra.
He looked at me for a long time, and I felt the light, respectful tip of his mind brushing against mine. I did not resist. I offered nothing. I simply… was. A calm, deep lake. He withdrew his probe, more perplexed than ever.
"You should come with us," he said finally. "The Jedi Council will undoubtedly wish to examine you both."
My blood ran cold. No. Not that. Not now. The Council. Palpatine. Too many eyes. Too much danger.
"My brother is the Chosen One," I said, the words burning my tongue. "He is the one you need. My place is here. For now."
It was a risk. To state that. But I had to channel him, and the others, toward Anakin. Divert attention from me.
Qui-Gon opened his mouth to reply when a shout interrupted us. Anakin, panicked, was calling for us. He had sensed Dark Maul's attack on the dunes.
The moment was gone. The fight, the hurried departure. I stayed behind with Shmi, watching the ship rise into Tatooine's blazing sky, carrying my brother toward his destiny.
And toward war.
I felt Maul's ship jump to hyperspace in pursuit. I felt the shadow of the blockade tightening around Naboo. I felt the first move of a galactic game of chess that had just begun.
Anakin was on the board. I was entrenched in the shadows, a knowing spectator. My wisdom was both a gift and a prison. I knew the battle for Naboo would be won.
But I also knew it was the first battle of a much larger war. And that the greatest defeat of all—my brother's fall—was still a long way from being prevented.