Tatooine was, by far, one of the worst worlds to live on. From its ubiquitous sands, twin suns, and hostile natives to rampant criminal activity, the Outer Rim rock was an awful planet. But for Ben Kenobi, the arid world had been home for almost two decades.

Parting the drapes of his window, Ben looked out from his hut over the rugged steeps of rock to the pale sand in the distance. The Jundland Wastes jutted upwards as jagged red stone canyons stretching miles in every direction. From atop the rocks, Kenobi could gather his sense of direction and recall the locales of a familiar world. To the north of the Wastes lay the settlements of Mos Edna, Mos Espa, and Mos Taike. To the far east was the spaceport of Mos Eisley. To the south was the expanse of the Western Dune Sea. To the west was just more rock and high rise plateaus.

The dry russet earth of the Wastes provided a durable shelter for Kenobi against Tatooine’s deleterious winds, but the aging Jedi was not the only one benefitting from the cover. Making use of techniques garnered from a lifetime of experience, Kenobi sharpened his senses and focused his sight on the area around him. His eyes surveyed the red and brown sediment until he spotted what he had been expecting to see: a pair of masked faces looking back at him.

Stepping out from the hut and raising his hood over his head, Ben cupped his hands around his mouth and let out an inhuman roar. It was a technique amplified through the Force and designed to mimic the call of the legendary krayt dragon; the most feared of the tuskens’ predators. Upon hearing the sound, Ben could make out the tuskens’ response: a complex series of whoops and shouts. In seconds, the masked faces retreated back into the depths of the Wastes to their hidden camp.

The sand people usually kept their distance from Kenobi’s hut, but every now and again they would grow bold enough to try something. The older man had a reputation amongst the tuskens as a figure not to be disturbed; however, Ben had learned to be wary of the sand peoples’ patterned behavior. Once every two years, a tusken chieftain would be challenged and replaced by a stronger leader. This tradition led to new scouts that the Jedi needed to ward off lest they decided to attack.

But the most recent transfer of power had just ended--this was the first scouting party to approach in weeks--and Kenobi assumed it would be the last until the next year. After confirming they had fled entirely, Ben walked back inside and immediately collapsed.

Falling to his knees, Kenobi braced his hand against a nearby table. A cold shock coursed through his body--feelings of fear, confusion, loneliness--a chorus of millions crying out before… nothing. It was an emptiness Ben had felt but never on a scale like this. Almost like a voice, but one that could only be heard as an echo. The feeling had almost faded away entirely as he pulled himself to his feet, but a darkness lingered within.

Do you feel it, Obi Wan?

“Yes, master,” the Jedi answered, lowering his hood and taking a seat on his cot. “The Force… I could hear it.”

Alderaan.

Kenobi sighed and placed a hand on his white beard. “What happened to it?”

The Empire has unleashed a powerful weapon upon the galaxy. One that can destroy whole planets in an instant.

A grave expression wrinkled the Jedi’s face. He closed his eyes and reached out through the Force as far as he could. He didn’t have the premonition sense of past Jedi, but he still had to try…

“The princess,” Ben asked, straining his mind, “what’s become of her?”

Flashes of emotions rushed back to the Jedi as he touched the distant edges of his mind’s reach. Loneliness, loss, anger, and hate… the princess was clouded by darkness.

She is in the hands of Darth Vader.

The voice was calm despite the severity of the news it brought.

“Do the Emperor and Vader know of her heritage?”

I cannot say. But I do know that it is time, Obi Wan.

Kenobi opened his eyes. His face somehow looked decades older than it was. In his 20 years of exile, he had come to terms with his failure as a master--as a teacher. He had failed the person he was closest to, leading them down a path far darker than any should walk. His teachings had created a monster who fell into the hands of the Sith, and brought the end of the Old Republic and the Jedi Order. He had failed his brother and his master, the closest people being a Jedi allowed him to call family.

“Master,” Obi Wan called. For all of his wisdom, Kenobi still held the guilt of Darth Vader close to his heart. “I will try, but… what if I fail again?”

Silence.

“What if I fail Luke just as much as Anakin?”

Nothing.

“What if I train the boy only to lose him to Sidious?”

Obi Wan waited for some sort of answer, a confirmation--wisdom, or advice, or a vision, or some sort of prophecy--but the voice was silent. Kenobi may have been a Jedi master, but he was only human. He was fallible, and he had proved it. The destruction of Alderaan proved it. The Jedi Purge proved it. Mustafar proved it.

“I will protect him, but I won’t teach him. Not again.”

Obi Wan rose from his seat, believing the commune with the voice to be over, but a strong gust of wind blew through the hut, ripping the drapes from the windows. Kenobi was pushed down again, and he covered his face with his hands against the storm manifesting in his home. The hut’s cabinets and sparse decorations flew in the air, colliding amidst the commotion. Obi Wan could hear his robes ruffling and closed his eyes as a pool of sand entered his home and spiraled.

As soon as the wind arrived, it settled, and he opened his eyes once more to find the visage of his old master before him. Qui-Gon Jinn, sculpted from a million grains of sand, stood in front of his old padawan. The red drapes of Kenobi’s window adorned his body, swirling from the aura the spirit emitted. Every detail of Qui-Gon’s face was just as Kenobi remembered from so long ago; such detail from sand should have been impossible, but not through the Force.

“Obi Wan,” Qui-Gon’s voice was sonorous and filled the entirety of the hut. “You must train Luke Skywalker just as you trained his father before him.”

The old jedi rose. Qui-Gon’s spirit reminded Obi Wan so much of the past. Waves of nostalgia washed over him, memories of times he never could’ve remembered. Kenobi had forgotten how comforting it was to be in Jinn’s presence

“Luke is to be a Jedi. He will help free the galaxy from the Sith and bring balance to the Force. He is the son of the Chosen One.”

“Master, you still believe Anakin is the Chosen One? After everything that’s happened? After the path he’s taken?”

Qui-Gon reached out with his hand and placed it atop Kenobi’s head. A burst of light flooded Obi Wan’s eyes, and as it dissipated, he could see his master in the flesh. He could see himself as a young padawan, his light brown braid over his shoulder. He looked up at his master who stood tall and proud, assured of his faith in himself and in the Force.

“Just because one has lost their way in the dark does not mean they are lost forever. Learn from your failures, do not let them dictate your destiny. Trust in the Force, Obi Wan. It will guide you both on your journey.”

“I will try, master.”

Another flash of light and Jinn was gone. The aura of serenity the Jedi’s spirit brought blew away with a gust of Tatooine’s winds. But even as Kenobi listened to the soft whistle of the sands, he could hear the whisper of one last bit of wisdom.

Do or do not, Obi Wan. There is no try.

Just because he accepted his failure did not make the pain of it any easier. Still, he knew that he owed it to Qui-Gon and Anakin to try again. He had failed Skywalker long before Mustafar, losing him to the temptations of the dark side. But Luke…

He would not fail Luke.

Darth Sidious may have twisted Anakin’s heart, and Darth Vader may corrupt Leia’s, but they would not have Luke. Obi Wan vowed it to himself.

Determined and inspired, Kenobi gathered his belongings from what remained of his home. Slipping two lightsabers beneath his robes and placing twenty years of credits in his pockets, Obi Wan left his hut. Pulling his hood over his head, the hermit began the trek to Owen Lars’ moisture farm and the long journey to bring back the Jedi.

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Tatooine’s twin suns had just begun their descent over the horizon as Luke Skywalker’s airspeeder neared the Lars homestead. The blended red and lavender hue of nightfall indicated Luke was going to be late for supper, but the young man was already full on freedom. Strapped into the speeder with his helmet strapped on tighter, Luke pulled the throttle of the craft as far as it could go, racing across the dark yellow sands.

The undercurrent scattered the ground beneath to the wind. Plumes of pulverized sediment formed an arching cloud behind the speeder. Luke could feel his heart roaring just like the overworked engine, pumping to get as close to its limit as possible. Another minute and he would reach max acceleration; Uncle Owen had warned him never to go even half as fast, but Uncle Owen never wanted anyone or anything to reach its full potential. And this time he wasn’t around.

Luke’s gloved fingers clenched tightly around the steering wheel and he tasted the blood trickling off his chapped lips--a consequence of driving too fast for too long. His ears popped and the sands under the speeder began to whistle as the heat of the engine sparked inconvenient fires, but he couldn’t bring himself to stop.

He was so close to reaching that elusive limit, and yet, so far.

With a violent boom, Luke felt the vehicle give out a defeated sputter as it choked on the fuel it had tried so hard to burn through. Dark black smoke mixed with the cloud of sand trailing after him, and the young farm boy conceded with a sigh of his own. It wasn’t the first time he’d push the speeder too far, but it was the first time he did it with Biggs on his mind.

Skywalker had known Biggs Darklighter for most of his life. The Darklighter homestead was only a short ride from the Lars’, so Luke and Biggs found an easy friendship on a not so easy world. Tatooine’s harsh climate, wildlife, and terrain made the rock near inhospitable, but the most rugged of people in the galaxy could survive on the planet. The dull and stolid learn to live and have families while the smart and wise know better than to be anywhere near the planet in the first place. Only four types of people were said to come from Tatooine: farmers, criminals, racers, and deadmen.

Luke and Biggs decided a long time ago they didn’t plan on being any of the above.

They promised one another that they’d find a way off Tatooine and out of the Outer Rim. Someplace with a lot more color, a lot more people, and a lot less sand. But luck would have it that only one of them would leave. While Biggs got to apply for the Imperial Academy and leave a life of moisture farming behind, Luke was left with the privilege of helping his uncle pull in one last season.

But Skywalker knew one last season would turn into one more last season, and another, and then another after that. Until too many seasons pass and Uncle Owen dies and Luke gets the even better privilege of inheriting the family moisture farm. Maybe he’d even get to adopt a son of his own and pass on the ever so fortunate family heirloom of meaninglessness and redundancy.

Still, Luke felt a sense of comfort as he made out the silhouette of his home across the horizon. The burrow’s familiar shadow grew larger, and he could see two much smaller shadows rise out of it towards him. Ugh, Owen and Beru are gonna lose it this time, he groaned. All our credits went to these power converters--hopefully we have all the parts to fix the engine or--

Luke’s train of thought was cut off as he saw a third shadow step out of the burrow. It was rare to have a visitor, even rarer for them to stay so late. As Skywalker puzzled over who could’ve stopped by, the speeder stalled a few dozen meters away from the entrance. Luke unbuckled himself and hopped out of the vehicle, only reaching back in to grab the converters. Hefting the large cells over his shoulder, Luke turned to find his aunt, uncle, and someone strangely familiar waiting for him.

“Old Ben!” Luke exclaimed, recognizing the bearded man in his drab brown robe. “What are you doing here?”

Old Ben Kenobi was one of Tatooine’s many oddities: A hermit living in the heart of the Jundland Wastes. Luke had only seen him a few times before but he kind of liked the guy. Ben always had the best stories, ones that Biggs said only a veteran of the Clone Wars would know, but Uncle Owen always wrote the stories off as crazy talk. And Luke had to admit, only a crazy person would live by himself in Tusken territory.

“He was just leaving,” Owen answered gruffly.

“Isn’t it dangerous for him to be leaving so late?” As passionate as Luke was about freedom, he was equally oblivious to his uncle’s less than subtle opinions. “He should stay the night. There’s no telling what the sand people might do out there.”

Before Owen could shut down the possibility, Kenobi spoke up.

“You have a point, Luke. I think I’d feel much safer leaving at dawn, if you don’t mind, Owen--”

“Lars,” Owen barked angrily.

It seemed for a second Old Ben might still be forced away but Beru spoke up.

“Luke has a point, dear.” She placed a consoling hand on her husband’s shoulder. “It would be rude to make him travel back so late; we owe him more than that.”

“We don’t owe him a blasted thing, Berry!” Owen threw the hermit one of the meanest glares Luke had ever seen on his uncle’s face. He had no clue why Uncle Owen was acting like this, but he knew his uncle was in the wrong. It seemed like Owen picked up on that too.

“Dawn. No later,” Owen growled. “Beru’ll show you to a room.”

Old Ben nodded his head and thanked Owen, but Luke could have sworn he saw the hermit give him a little smile as Beru escorted him down the steps.

Luke moved to follow after though he stopped when Owen placed a burly hand against his chest.

“Luke, I need you to listen to me.” Luke leaned in to hear his uncle’s words. He could smell the sweat of working the farm on him, it was its own brand of uninspired pungency.

“No matter what that man tells you in there you can’t trust him. Not for a goddamn second, you hear me?” Luke nodded. “You’re a farmer, son. Your father wanted you to be safe with us, and I’m not about to let some balding wizard spit in the face of your father’s wishes.”

Lars held his nephew there for a moment longer before letting out a sigh. “Go set down those converters, we’ll deal with ‘em in the morning...together.” With a quick pat on Luke’s back, Owen headed down the stairs, leaving Skywalker to wonder just what was going on.

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It took Luke about ten minutes to heave the power converters down to the garage, but he gave himself a good twenty to catch his breath and let all his sweat dry up. While he dried off, Luke took a seat on the red R5 unit he and his uncle had bought a day or so ago. A restraining bolt kept it from moving and making noise, so Luke filled the silence himself.

“What had all that been about up there, do you think?” Luke asked the nonresponsive droid, “I’m not as blind as a mynock, I can tell something’s happening.” He stood up and ran his hands through his blonde hair, shaking his head in frustration.

He let out a long groan. “And what had all that stuff been about my dad? Do you think Old Ben knows something about him?” He sat down cross-legged next to the droid, his hair ruffled and matted with sweat.

Resting his head against the red astromech, Luke cooled the left side of his face on the cold metal. “I saw Biggs earlier...Biggs Darklighter, do you know him?”

No response.

“Yeah, well,” Luke answered himself. “You will soon. Wanna know why?” His voice turned to a whisper as he peaked around the room as if someone would be listening in, “He’s leaving the Academy to go to Bestine and join the Rebellion.”

A huge grin crossed Luke’s face as he said the last word. “The Rebellion! It’s crazy, right?” Unable to stay still with his sudden surge of energy, Luke stood up, “I told him that it sounded crazy and that it’ll probably be a longshot if he ever comes across them, but I know he will…”

Luke’s voice grew soft.

“If anyone can find the Rebels...it’s Biggs. He can do anything; he’s almost as good a pilot as me,” His smile dropped as he sat in front of the restrained astromech. Thinking about his childhood friend going off to fight in a war seemed bigger than anything Luke had ever imagined on Tatooine. His best friend gone amongst the stars Luke could only dream of getting to. The thought of Biggs getting shot at, or captured, or worse...

“I know you can’t hear me, but,” His voice was barely audible as he pressed his forehead against the droid and closed his eyes. “I’m gonna be right behind you, Darklighter. Don’t get yourself killed before I find you. Uncle Owen won’t keep me past this season, and when I get to the Academy...I’m going to catch up to you in no time, I prom--”

“Luke!” Aunt Beru’s call broke the farmboy’s train of thought, and he stood alert as if he had been caught trying to steal a scavenger’s ration portions, “Luke, come up for dinner!”

Realizing he hadn’t been overheard, Skywalker let out a long sigh of relief. Placing his hand on the droid’s circular head, he gazed at his reflection on the dusty metal. “I’ll get that bolt off, Red. Don’t worry, I won’t forget about you--that’s a promise.”

With that, Luke made his way up the steps, turning off the lights in the garage. In the quiet darkness of the repair station, R5-D4 let out a low whirr of gratitude before powering down.

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Dinner was uncomfortably silent. Luke was the only one really looking up from his food, so he was the only one who could see the furtive glances being traded between his aunt and uncle. The back and forth seemed to play like an argument, and as Aunt Beru let out a long breath, Luke could tell his uncle had won.

Aunt Beru rose, her plate almost completely untouched. “Let me clear the table.” She gathered her plate and Uncle Owen’s which was completely untouched. She made her way over to Luke’s, but her foot caught on one of the table’s legs. Beru let out a panicked yelp as she stumbled forward, the two plates of untouched food she had been carrying falling out of her hands and towards Luke.

Skywalker flinched and closed his eyes, bracing for the impact.

It never came.

After a moment, Luke opened his eyes, his mouth opening wider, as he saw the plates and food floating only a few inches from his face. He let out a half-nervous-half-amazed laugh, and turned to make sure everyone else could see what was happening. It turns out they did, and Uncle Owen looked even more furious than before.

“I said none of your magic in my house, Jedi!” Owen shouted, he stood up and slammed his hand on the table.

“Jedi?” Luke repeated dimly. He looked at Old Ben who had his hand outstretched towards the floating plates. With a wave of his hand, the plates moved through the air and sat on the table, their contents following suit, only a little worse for wear.

“I want you out of my home this instant!” Owen hollered, “You’re not taking Luke, so get it through that thick head of yours. You hear me?”

Ben opened his eyes and stood, his voice calm, “Forgive me, Lars, but that decision is Luke’s.”

Owen took a step towards the old man, standing in his face.

“I said he ain’t going anywhere. I’m not gonna let you get my nephew caught up in some crazy space war, so you’d best be making your way home--you’ll have about an hour before nightfall.”

Ben stood his ground, his expression not changing as his eyes went from Owen to Luke then back to Owen, “As you wish.”

The old hermit put his hood on as he moved past Lars towards the door.

“Wait!” He turned at the sound of Luke’s voice, “You’re a Jedi?”

The old man smiled, a small one, “I am.”

“Did you fight in the Clone Wars?” Luke asked. His eyes were bright with fascination.

“Luke--,” His uncle tried to growl, but Ben cut him off.

“I was a general in the war,” The old man said, lowering his hood again, “Just like your father.”

A gasp came from Beru as she covered her mouth. Owen gave the old Jedi a dark glare.

“But,” Luke was the only one who wasn’t silent, “My father wasn’t a Jedi….He was a navigator on a spice freighter…” He looked to his aunt and uncle, both of whom didn’t look him in the eye, “Right?”

“That’s right,” Owen snarled. “Your father was a navigator and he died a navigator.”

“Your father,” Ben said plainly, seemingly ignoring the animosity in Lars’ voice, “was a Jedi Knight, Luke. One of the greatest, and my closest friend.”

“Is that true?” Luke asked incredulously. No one responded. “Is that true?” He demanded, standing up.

“Yes…” Beru choked out from behind her hand.

“Beru!” Owen snapped.

“No, Owen… He deserves to know,” She wasn’t going to give this time. Beru put a hand on Luke’s shoulder and he turned to face her. His eyes were full of disbelief.

“Luke...Your father was a Jedi, but he died fighting in the war--a war just like the one going on now. All the Jedi died, because they were reckless. We tried to keep you from that life because only pain exists for people like that. Please, you have to believe us, Luke.”

Skywalker stepped back from her, looking back and forth between his aunt and uncle. “How could you both keep that from me?” Tears formed as the heat of his face and pain in his voice rose. “You’ve been lying to me about my life since… since the beginning. If it weren’t for Ben, you guys probably wouldn’t have even bothered telling me the truth, would you?”

Luke glared at his uncle, “And you probably would have kept me here as a farm hand for the rest of my life. No academy or piloting for me, just,” He gestured around himself, “vaporators and sand. Is that what you wanted?”

“We wanted to keep you safe, Luke,” Beru pleaded, “It was the only way, please--”

“Just stop!” Luke yelled. Everyone was looking at him. His breathing was heavy and his face was hot, “Stop lying.”

He gripped the edge of the table tightly. Dusty knuckles were met with tears that revealed the white knuckles underneath. “I’m not just a farmer. I never was. You both knew how much I wanted to be something more, and now I know… you knew I could’ve been something more. I could still be--”

A hush fell over the room, as the young Skywalker caught his breath. He looked up, his gaze going directly for Ben. “My father,” Luke asked quietly, “If he was a Jedi, could I be one too?”

Owen and Beru both looked at one another as the old hermit spoke.

“You could be an even greater Jedi than your father, Luke,” Ben took a step back into the room, “but it is not a choice to be made out of anger or betrayal.” Skywalker’s eyes dropped slightly.

“Being a Jedi, Luke, is about compassion,” A warmth seemed to permeate the room as the white-haired hermit spoke, “It’s about forgiveness. The first steps will be hard, but you must face them if you ever hope to become a Jedi.”

Ben turned and walked up the steps leaving Skywalker with his aunt and uncle. For a while, no one spoke. The calm the Jedi’s words brought had faded and all that was left was the anger and tension.

Luke went first.

“I’m going to become a Jedi like my father,” He declared. Owen didn’t look at him.

“Uncle, I...I think I understand why you’d lie to me, but I need to follow my own path. Staying on the farm my whole life? I can’t do that….All of my friends are gone, Biggs is gone. Everyone’s growing up and making something of themselves and seeing the galaxy, and I--I just don’t want to be left behind.”

“Luke,” His uncle responded, his blue eyes finally meeting Luke’s, “Not this way.” He shook his head slightly, “I promise, the end of this season, I’ll take you to the Academy--you can sign up, you can be with your friends, just…” His voice cracked, “Don’t go like this. Not with him.”

They held one another in that moment for a long time, but after taking a shaky breath and wiping his eyes, Luke came to his decision.

“I’m sorry, Uncle. I love you,” He looked to his aunt, “Both of you. Thank you for everything. For taking care of me; raising me, keeping me safe, teaching me to pilot and cook and look out for myself. Thank you...but if I don’t go now,” His voice trailed off and he looked back to his uncle who was silently pleading with him, “I don’t think I ever will.”

Walking to the door, Luke placed a hand on the frame and turned back to his family.

“I’ll come back,” He managed. “I promise.”

With that, Luke Skywalker took one last look at everything he knew in the galaxy--at the burrow he called home. Pain quickly took a backseat to the future that was now ahead of him. Stepping outside and catching a glimpse of the violet skies and their twin suns setting just beyond the horizon, Luke made one last promise.

I’m coming, Darklighter.