The adrenaline had faded, and the engines cooled. But the echoes of Anakin's choice still reverberated.
Crowds dispersed like sand in the wind, their awe turning to gossip and speculation. Victory banners rippled across the Mos Espa skyline. Anakin stood beside his pod, eyes lifted toward the twin suns he would soon chase, not with a child's wonder, but with a warrior's clarity.
Shmi pushed through the dispersing mob, Padmé close behind her. She caught him in her arms with a sob, clutching him with a strength that seemed to defy her frame.
"I thought…I was so afraid, Ani…" Shmi broke down with her son in her arms.
"I wasn't," Anakin said softly.
I didn't explain, I couldn't, I just hugged her back, grounding myself in the truth of her love. For a moment, I let myself be the boy she still believed me to be.
But not for long.
Footsteps approached lightly and deliberately. He knew who it was before she spoke.
Moments later, another pair of arms wrapped around him. Padmé's voice, thick with emotion, cut through the noise.
Warmth flooded his senses. He felt her heartbeat against his chest, her breath catch as the dust clung to them both. Her embrace was warm and grounding, and for a brief second, Anakin couldn't let himself believe that he was worthy of her affections.
It was something like the embraces he remembered from another life, something like what she would one day give him willingly, in a different time, under a different sun.
"I was wrong about you," she whispered, her voice in awe. "You were… amazing."
Anakin turned slowly. Padmé stood there, her hair moving with the wind, her eyes bright with relief and something else.
Anakin gave her a tight smile, careful not to meet her eyes. "Thanks," he said. "I'm… glad I could help."
But inside, his thoughts were far from calm.
"I just flew," he replied, voice even, guarded. "Like I always do."
She laughed softly. "You didn't just fly silly. You moved like you knew what was going to happen before it happened."
"I've never seen anything like it," she continued. "You saved us. That podrace was our only hope."
He looked away.
She didn't know, she couldn't have.
She didn't know what he had done to her in the past, after the coldness and failure he had shown her on Mustafar.
She didn't know she was hugging someone who killed her.
How could he be worthy of her warmth, her admiration?
She should have been afraid. Terrified.
Instead, she believed in him. Smiled at him.
He clenched his fists by his sides and looked down at the sand, guilt heavy on his shoulders.
I don't deserve this.
Not yet.
Watto hovered uncertainly, wings beating with nervous energy. His gaze flicked between Anakin, Shmi, and Qui-Gon, and then to the pile of credits in his claw. The junk dealer's usual gruffness was tempered by something unfamiliar, a flicker of hesitation.
"I don't like this," Watto grumbled, voice lower than usual. "I don't want to lose the boy. He's… different."
Shmi stepped forward, steady and resolute. "You promised, Watto. If Anakin wins, we're both free."
The Toydarian's wings were jittering with panic. "That win was impossible," the junk dealer stammered. "That pod was nothing but scrap, I checked it myself! You…he…what trick is this?"
Qui-Gon's expression hardened. "Watto, you agreed to the terms before the race. The pod's earnings will cover the parts for the ship. The rest is yours, and you agreed to the freedom for both Shmi and Anakin."
Watto snorted. "The money earned from the race is not worth half of what I got for the boy. Instead, how about I give you the prize money instead and I keep him, eh?"
Qui-Gon's gaze was steady. "If you refuse now, I'll have to take this to the Hutts, they have no patience for broken deals."
Watto's face paled slightly. The Hutts were not a risk he wanted to take.
His eyes darted nervously. "I know what I said. But… the boy…he's no ordinary slave. I… I don't want to lose him. He's more than a worker."
The Toydarian sighed heavily, wings beating slower. "Fine! But if I hear he's been stolen or harmed… ahhhh whatever!"
"Leave, all of you! And don't expect a warm welcome if you ever come back, eh." He spun in the air and flapped off into the crowd, smaller now than Anakin had ever seen him.
Anakin's eyes watched the Toydarian hover away. He didn't hate Watto, not anymore. He saw him clearly now, greedy, small-minded, but not heartless. A creature of bad habits, not of evil and cruelty.
'Should I leave Threepio here for a bit to help him around the shop?' Anakin thought briefly.
Ultimately, I decided against it, I'll return this favor later on.
Returning to their home after it felt both smaller and more sacred than he remembered. Every corner was a memory.
Shmi moved through the house like a ghost, touching memories. She gathered a small box of keepsakes, pieces of Anakin's early drawings, a worn baby tunic, a piece of dried wood carved with Tatooinian symbols. The home had never been large, but the emotions packed into it now made the walls feel as if they were closing in.
Anakin moved with clarity, collecting what mattered. A bag of spare parts, the Japor snippet he had carved for Padmé, and a few worn tools.
Then he turned to Threepio. The droid stood inert against the wall, his parts carefully arranged from Anakin's last tinkering session.
He sat on the floor beside him and began methodically reattaching the plating. "Time to wake up, Threepio."
The droid's optics flickered to life. "Oh! Oh my! Master Anakin, is it time to depart?"
"Yes," Anakin said, checking the connections. "You're coming with us."
"Leave Mos Espa? But what about the shop and your mother? And my protocol update—"
Anakin smiled faintly. "You can save your worries Threepio, everything has been taken care of. You're going to see stars."
Shmi knelt beside them, watching her son work with proud, bittersweet eyes. "I always said you'd go far. And here we are."
"I just never dreamed it would be like this," she whispered under her breath, brushing dust from his shoulder.
Threepio straightened with a mechanical hum. "Well then! I suppose I'd best make sure my joints are in proper order. First impressions matter in space."
Anakin gave a soft chuckle. For a moment, just a moment, he missed Threepio's humor.
They returned to the outskirts of Mos Espa where the Queen's ship waited after the hyperdrive had been repaired, its sleek frame glinting in the waning light.
But something was wrong. Anakin felt it first, a ripple in the Force, like a shadow moving behind a curtain.
Qui-Gon suddenly tensed beside him. "Stay with your mother, and hurry to the ship with Obi-Wan!" he said sternly.
Then the figure emerged. A silhouette against the sunset. Cloaked in black and crimson, tattoos carved like ritual across his face. A demon from some other realm.
Darth Maul.
His double-bladed saber ignited with a snap-hiss, casting a blood-red glow on the sands.
Qui-Gon moved.
Green clashed against red. Sparks flew. Sand scattered beneath their feet as they whirled and struck. Each blow struck, a question, and each block deflected, an answer. Qui-Gon fought with a centered, measured grace, Form IV spinning through the air, while Maul lunged like a predator, a fury of aggression and calculated hate.
They dueled across the dunes, steps kicking up clouds of grit as they moved closer to the ship. Qui-Gon's saber twirled and deflected, parried and thrust, each motion disciplined and deliberate.
Maul was faster, and younger. But Qui-Gon was wise, and his presence in the Force was calm as the eye of a storm.
Obi-Wan tried to race from the loading ramp, igniting his blue blade with a flash. He wanted to join his Master with a well-timed strike against the foe. But with a Force push from Qui-Gon, he stopped Obi-Wan from engaging.
"Get them aboard!" Qui-Gon barked.
Obi-Wan nodded and turned, urging the others into the ship. Anakin hesitated, but then Shmi's hand gripped his, and he moved.
"Let's go!" Obi-Wan ordered as he guided everyone back.
Shmi led him up the ramp with Padmé, Threepio, and Jar Jar close behind. The ship sealed behind them.
Just as the last of them boarded, Maul launched forward with a howl.
Qui-Gon blocked a vicious slash, then twisted, using Maul's own momentum to shove him aside with another Force push that sent him tumbling through the sand.
With the opening, Qui-Gon vaulted back, saber still ignited, and sprinted up the ramp.
The ship sealed shut. The Queen's ship blasted into the atmosphere, leaving the dark warrior staring upward, breath heaving.
He grabbed his mother's hand, leading her up the ramp with Padmé and Jar Jar close behind. The ship sealed behind them.
High above the atmosphere, silence settled.
Qui-Gon lay on the corridor floor just beyond the ship's main ramp, chest rising and falling with the rhythm of exhaustion. Sweat clung to his brow as he stared at the ceiling, processing what he had just encountered.
A warrior, but not just any dark acolyte, he was well-trained and powerful. Cold with purpose.
"Could it be…" he whispered aloud. "A Sith?"
Obi-Wan ran to his side, crouching down. "Master, are you hurt?"
"No," Qui-Gon said, breathing heavily, "only winded."
He looked up at his Padawan. "But that thing I fought, it was no mere assassin. That was something darker. Something ancient."
"You think it was a Sith?"
"I don't know what else it could be." Qui-Gon pushed himself to sit up slowly. "We must report this to the Council immediately."
He looked to the corridor, where Shmi and Anakin stood quietly, unsure whether to approach. Threepio hovered behind them, awkward but attentive.
Obi-Wan followed his Master's gaze.
"These," Qui-Gon said, gesturing from where he sat, "Are our new passengers. Obi-Wan, meet Anakin Skywalker, his mother Shmi, and… their droid, C-3PO."
Threepio offered a stiff bow. "It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance, sir."
"Well, hello there," he politely replied with a bow.
"I heard a lot about you from my master, it's a pleasure to meet you."
Obi-Wan stepped forward and extended his hand to Anakin. The boy hesitated only a second, then shook it.
As their hands touched, a flicker passed through the Force, elusive, unspoken, but profound. Something pulsed through the Force, quiet but undeniable. A resonance neither of them could name.
Obi-Wan's brow twitched, his breath catching in his throat. A tear welled in the corner of his eye and slid down his cheek before he could stop it.
He didn't even realize it had fallen.
Qui-Gon noticed, he tilted his head, "What is it, Padawan?"
Obi-Wan blinked, startled. "I… I don't know," he said honestly. "Something about him… It felt like…" He trailed off, unable to grasp the feeling fully.
Anakin looked between them, quiet and uncertain, as if he, too, had felt something just out of reach.
Obi-Wan cleared his throat. "Well…Welcome aboard."
Qui-Gon, finally on his feet, turned toward the bridge. "Set course for Coruscant."
The shadows had only begun to move.