There is a warmth that cradles her thoughts, there is a calm that soothes the panic that has been rising in her breast at the memories of her own death. And a voice, familiar to her, as if he never left her side.

Obi Wan?

She remembers his hand upon her cheek, clinging to his armor as if it could keep her from fading. What had he done after? She knew nothing of her people, her sister, her world. She knew nothing of his fate.

And what of you, Obi Wan?