The Desert Nomad image - CaptainRegor

The boy is safe. Lars cannot hide his distaste for me, given my connection to the child’s father. Beru, however, is clearly smitten with the infant. But my presence is not welcome in their house. That is fine. I’ll watch over the child from a distance.

But first, I must ready myself. I will build a shelter across the Dune Sea from the Lars homestead. Close enough for me to sense any danger to the boy. Far enough away that the Empire may not discover him if they find me.

Master Yoda’s training was well-advised. I have already established a link with the spirit of my Master, Qui-Gon. His teachings endure from beyond the netherworld of the Force. There is a measure of comfort to be found there. And, someday, when my task is accomplished, I might be able to join him in that place.

But for now, I feel old. Old beyond my years. Desert life ages flesh and spirit, so I can only expect this to worsen the longer I remain on this world. The Tatooine storms will whip me with sands like a scourge. Each night I will hear in the winds the howls of my murdered Jedi kindred.

The Jedi are all but extinct. The few who survived Order 66 are continuously being hunted. Across the galaxy I am certain more will die. When I feel their deaths, I’ll dare not reach out to learn who it was, or to assist in any way. If I am discovered, then the boy may be discovered as well. And all will be lost.

I already wrestle with the weariness. The loss of my friend to this evil creature who has replaced him fills me with bitterness. But I must remember the words of my Master: Be mindful of the future, but not at the expense of the moment. The boy is what matters. He IS the future.

Fool. I’m a damned idealistic fool. And blind, too. Anakin’s darkness was obvious. I should have foreseen this and prevented it. I failed him. My failure ended the Jedi Order.

The boy is our last hope. I failed Anakin. But I’ll not fail Luke. The son of Skywalker must become a Jedi.