Anakin Skywalker

The Jedi Temple was too quiet at that hour.

The light stone corridors reflected firm footsteps as Anakin Skywalker walked, his hands hidden beneath his dark cloak.

The Force was never silent to him. Never.

He stopped before one of the large windows, watching Coruscant stretch out below, vibrant and distant.

The city lights twinkled like artificial stars.

Everyone called him the Chosen One. A hero. A beacon of hope.

But no one saw the dreams.

His jaw clenched as he recalled the visions—screams, losses, faces that vanished before he could save them.

If I have so much power… why can't I stop this?

A shiver ran down his spine as the Force stirred, unlike usual. Denser. Closer.

Someone was there.

Anakin turned slowly, his hand sliding toward his lightsaber, his heart racing.

Who's there?