The cave offered shelter from the storm, but little comfort.
T'Challa and Ahsoka had both succumbed to exhaustion, sleeping fitfully near the small fire the Black Panther had coaxed from gathered wood and his suit's energy discharge. The flames cast dancing shadows across crystalline formations that jutted from the cave walls—natural kyber, perhaps, or something unique to Mortis. They pulsed with faint luminescence, creating an otherworldly atmosphere.
Obi-Wan couldn't sleep.
He sat with his back against cool stone, legs crossed in a meditation pose he couldn't quite commit to. His mind churned with too many questions, too many concerns. The being they'd encountered—the Son, if the family naming convention held—had known about the Chosen One prophecy. Had asked specifically about Anakin.
How?
The Force pressed against Obi-Wan's awareness with unusual intensity. Not threatening, exactly, but insistent. Like it wanted his attention. Like something was trying to break through.
A crystal near his hand began to glow brighter.
Then another.
One by one, the formations surrounding their makeshift camp blazed with light—not harsh or blinding, but steady and warm, like stars coming out at dusk.
Obi-Wan's hand moved to his lightsaber.
"Obi-Wan."
The voice froze him in place.
Impossible. It couldn't be. He'd watched his master die on Naboo thirteen years ago, held him as the light faded from his eyes, cremated his body according to Jedi tradition.
But he knew that voice. Would know it anywhere, in any circumstance.
"Master?" The word came out strangled, barely above a whisper.
"Did you do as I asked?"
Obi-Wan turned slowly, almost afraid of what he'd see.
Qui-Gon Jinn stood three meters away, his form translucent and glowing with soft blue light. He looked exactly as Obi-Wan remembered—long hair, strong features, that particular expression of bemused wisdom that suggested he knew secrets the rest of the galaxy had forgotten.
But he was there. Not a memory. Not a vision. Present.
"Master." Obi-Wan's lightsaber activated on pure instinct, the blue blade humming to life. "How—what—why are you here?"
Qui-Gon's smile was gentle, understanding. "I am here because you are here. Because this place allows it."
"That doesn't explain anything." Obi-Wan's voice cracked slightly. Warmth flooded his chest—relief, grief, joy, confusion all tangled together. He'd thought he'd made peace with his master's death. Clearly, he'd been wrong. "How can you be here? You died. I was there. I held you—"
"Death is not an ending, Obi-Wan." Qui-Gon's voice carried that familiar patient tone, the one he'd used when explaining complex Force philosophy to a younger, more impetuous Padawan. "Merely a transition. And this place exists outside normal space. It is a conduit of the Cosmic Force. A nexus where the veil between life and death grows thin."
Obi-Wan slowly deactivated his lightsaber, though his hand remained on the hilt. "Are we in danger?"
"Always direct to the practical questions." Qui-Gon's smile widened slightly. "This world is both an amplifier and a conduit for the Force. It magnifies what already exists—light and dark, strength and weakness. The Father and his children dwell here. They have called Anakin to this place because they believe, as I do, that he is the Chosen One."
Qui-Gon's expression grew more serious. "They have taken notice of your companions as well. The Avengers. Their presence here... complicates matters."
Obi-Wan looked away from his former master's spectral form, staring at the fire instead. "You're right about Anakin's power. It surpasses anything I've encountered in my years as a Jedi." His voice dropped to barely above a whisper. "I've tried to teach him, Master. Tried to guide him the way you would have. But he's still so... willful. Impulsive. He seeks balance but can never quite find it."
The admission hurt more than Obi-Wan expected. "I've come to realize I was never meant to train him. I'm not—I can't—"
"You're not me," Qui-Gon finished gently.
"No." Obi-Wan's hands clenched. "I'm not. And he needed you, Master. Not me."
"Is that what troubles you?" Qui-Gon moved closer, his form solid enough to seem real despite its translucence. "That you cannot be me?"
"Yes! No. I don't know." Obi-Wan ran a hand through his hair in frustration. "He needed someone with your vision, your ability to see beyond the Code, your—"
"Obi-Wan." Qui-Gon's voice carried gentle amusement. "You will never be me. Nor should you try. You are Obi-Wan Kenobi—stubborn, brilliant, more capable than you give yourself credit for. That is why I entrusted Anakin to you."
The words struck deeper than any lightsaber.
"If Anakin is truly the Chosen One," Qui-Gon continued, "Mortis will reveal it. The Father and his children will test him in ways neither you nor I could."
"And if he's not?" Obi-Wan demanded. "What then?"
Qui-Gon's expression grew grave. "Then a being of immense power stands in a place that will magnify his every strength and weakness. His anger, his fear, his attachments—all amplified. This is a dangerous place for one such as him, Chosen One or not. You must be ready for whatever comes."
Obi-Wan nodded slowly, then turned toward where T'Challa slept, the Black Panther's breathing deep and even despite his alien features. "You mentioned our companions. The Avengers. What role do they play in this?"
"Ah." Qui-Gon's form flickered slightly, as if maintaining his presence required concentration. "The Avengers. Their arrival has changed everything, Obi-Wan. Changed the very fabric of destiny itself."
"What do you mean?"
"When they first appeared in this galaxy, you felt it—the disturbance in the Force. But it wasn't a disruption. It was... recognition." Qui-Gon gestured broadly, encompassing more than just the cave. "The Force acknowledged them. Welcomed them, even. Their presence will alter the fate of this galaxy in ways we cannot yet comprehend."
"I don't understand." Obi-Wan shook his head. "They're warriors from another world. Powerful, yes, but—"
"But you wonder if their influence will prove a blessing or a curse," Qui-Gon said, that knowing smile returning.
"Yes," Obi-Wan admitted. "The Council debates this constantly. Their methods are effective but unorthodox. Their philosophy challenges our own. Some Masters worry they'll upset the balance we've maintained for a thousand years."
"Balance." Qui-Gon's laugh was soft but carried an edge. "The Jedi speak much of balance while maintaining dogmatic rigidity. The Avengers will shake not just this galaxy, but the Order itself. And that, my old friend, may be exactly what both require."
The weight of that statement settled on Obi-Wan's shoulders like armor. "That's... that's a lot to process, Master."
"You bear a heavy burden," Qui-Gon acknowledged. "Training Anakin alone would challenge any Jedi. But you're also mentoring young Parker. Two of the most significant beings in this galaxy, both under your guidance. Both more important than you realize."
He paused, and his expression shifted to something almost prophetic.
"Especially Peter."
Obi-Wan's head snapped up. "Peter? What do you mean? He's brilliant, yes, and his abilities are remarkable, but—"
"Peter Parker is more than he appears, Obi-Wan." Qui-Gon's hand—solid despite being spirit—settled on his former Padawan's shoulder. The touch shocked Obi-Wan. He could feel it, warm and reassuring, exactly as he remembered from decades past.
"The boy carries something ancient within him. Something that predates this galaxy's understanding of power. The Father called it the Web-Totem—a connection to forces that exist outside the framework of the light and dark side. Forces that even the Cosmic Force acknowledges as separate from itself."
Obi-Wan felt his mouth go dry. "What are you saying, Master?"
"I'm saying that Peter's destiny is intertwined with forces beyond our comprehension. As is Anakin's. As are the Avengers' collective fate." Qui-Gon's eyes—so familiar, so missed—held Obi-Wan's gaze with intensity. "You worry you're not enough to guide them. But you are enough, Obi-Wan. You always have been. Continue your duty as a Jedi. Trust in the Force. Trust in them. And most importantly, trust in yourself."
"Master, I—" Obi-Wan struggled for words. "This is overwhelming. You speak of destiny and cosmic forces and significance I don't fully understand. How am I supposed to—"
"The same way you've always done." Qui-Gon's smile was warm, proud. "One step at a time. One lesson at a time. One choice at a time. You've never needed to be me, Obi-Wan. You only needed to be you."
"That's... surprisingly simple advice," Obi-Wan said, a weak smile tugging at his lips.
"The best wisdom usually is." Qui-Gon's form began to fade, growing more translucent. "I have faith in you, my old friend. I always have. May the Force be with you."
"Master, wait—" Obi-Wan reached out, but his hand passed through empty air.
The crystals' light dimmed gradually, returning to their natural faint glow. The cave felt emptier somehow, despite nothing physical having changed.
Obi-Wan stood alone in the flickering firelight, his master's words echoing in his mind.
You only needed to be you.
He looked down at T'Challa and Ahsoka, still sleeping peacefully. Somewhere out there in the storm, Anakin faced his own trials. Peter grappled with mysteries he didn't understand. Vision navigated a world that shouldn't exist.
And Obi-Wan Kenobi—not Qui-Gon Jinn, not anyone else—would be there to guide them through whatever came next.
It wouldn't be perfect. He would make mistakes. But perhaps that was the point. Perhaps perfection wasn't the goal. Perhaps simply being present, being honest, being himself was enough.
"Thank you, Master," he whispered to the empty cave.
The Force, vast and unknowable and somehow intimate, seemed to whisper back.
Outside, the storm raged on.
But inside, Obi-Wan Kenobi found something he hadn't possessed in years.
Peace.