Circle of healing

VII.

You'd think I'd learned by now
There's never an easy way
-- Paul Godfrey --

***

The aurora tenderly enveloped Padmé with warm, motherly feelings. The burning blue licked at the heavy cloak Kenobi had given her and vaporised it completely. No sound was audible when the shining reached the ceremonial gown.
Not completely vanished fear welled up inside of her. When the light burned her gowns with such ease - what assured her that it wouldn’t burn her body with same ease?
The thin wrap that lay on her shoulders disintegrated. She stayed in the middle of the aurora, in the middle of the icy desert, now only clad in the delicate white dress which clung softly to the curves of her slim body.
The cold had disappeared. But the doubts returned.
What was going to happen? Was she going to burn?
"Don’t be afraid, child of my soul."
As though triggered by the words, leaden fatigue began to creep up her spine - pain, worries and fear of the past time left her like melting shadows. Deep inside of her a quiet voice asked worriedly for Kenobi, a barely audible whisper against the roaring of the silence.
Barely audible - but audible.
"His time will come, child of my soul ", her unvoiced question was being answered.
Those were the last words she would hear. The light reached for her and she reached for the light, a strangely symbiotic act she wasn’t completely aware of. When it finally touched her skin, the touch was hot and cold at the same time, brought pain and relief, fatigue and wakening, confusion and understanding. Soft, yet strong a wave of the blue light surged into her mind and the world around her vanished as she drank the light like the elixir of life, breathed it in, absorbed it.
A last blue pulsing flare – then nothing.

***

Kenobi hung with closed eyes on the last ledge in the ice that kept him from falling into the yawning abyss. His heart hammered wildly against his ribcage, his breath was ragged and strangely flat. A dangerous numbness started spreading in his arms.
Too slow.
Questions shot through his head as he leant his forehead lightly against the unforgiving cold. How could this possibly have happened? How? Why did he fail? Why couldn’t he keep those people safe, who had been put under his wings, whom he was responsible for?
Too slow.
His thoughts wandered towards the child that had been given into his responsibility. Qui-Gon had trusted him with Anakin’s training, had asked him for it with his last breath. But how could he train the boy? How could he teach him to become a Jedi when he kept failing over and over again? When he failed miserably? It would be so much better for Anakin, if Mace Windu would take over his training. A wise man. A man who was stronger, who knew how to fulfil his missions, who didn’t fail.
A glance upwards revealed to him that the blue light had vanished - and the queen as well. There was nothing but the continuing gleaming of the light on the snowy surface. The last flicker of hope died down.
Too slow.
Was he worth being called a Jedi-knight when he wasn’t even capable of fulfilling the most simple of all tasks? He only would have had to keep her safe. Nothing more. If he had finished his mission, she would be alive by now.
Too slow.
The realisation hurt a thousand times worse than any bodily wounds ever could have.
Too slow.
As he once more fastened his gaze on the ledge in the ice, where his bloody hands clung to, he didn't see the fine schisms right away. Only when single drops of blood penetrated the schisms and interlaced the crystal like ice with a fine red cobweb, realisation dawned.
He was going to fall.
For an endless moment panic washed over him so fiercely that his hands cramped around the ice.
Fear.
It was as brutally real as the pain in his arms, haunted him in every single movement of his eyes and every single twitch of his muscles. Fear in its most simple, clearest and cleanest form.
Fear. The path to the dark side.
Even before he could finish the thought, the ice he had clung to with such desperation broke and he tumbled into the endless abyss, crashed against sharp-edged jags in ice and irreality that broke his back and his mind and denied him the mercy of losing consciousness. The pain of the injuries and the pain of failure boiled up to a single, silent scream.
"Master!"
He knew what would follow inevitably. This fall contained no hope of survival. Nevertheless he feared Qui-Gon’s disappointment more than his own death.

***

From her hiding place behind one of the big folding-doors Naara saw movement return to the circle of the priestesses. The light became brighter and the melody that had sounded throughout the whole ritual became distinctly audible once more. The slender form of the Jedi in the middle of the circle collapsed suddenly and sank towards the smooth marble floor. It seemed strange to Naara that even while falling he kept his hands around the queen in a protective manner.
As holy as the mood had been during the last days - right now it seemed to Naara as if all the tension had left the priestesses.
A group of five acolytes scurried past the tall girl - too concentrated to notice Naara. Her heart hammered fast, knowing all too well that she was doing what was not allowed. But the unrestrained curiosity had always been one of Naara's greatest weaknesses. So she stood rooted to the spot in the small chamber behind the door, unable to avert her eyes.
Impatiently and with a racing heart she hoped for an inscrutable gesture, a miracle, maybe she just waited for the walls to start speaking.
Carefully she poked her nose back out of the chamber and watched the ongoing events.

***

Dreams. Everlasting dreams. Not dark and maddening but soft and friendly. No plot, just warm feelings. It felt like a bodiless drifting, clear of fear, far away from sorrows and pain. The opaque haze that embraced everything nearly imperceptibly intensified the feeling of security. But the haze wouldn't stay. Nothing was meant for eternity. So the slow waking process became a soft drifting from dream into reality.

***

Reaja felt a strange feeling of elation rise in her as she realised the spark of life returning to the queen.
The ritual hadn't been practised for generations and the dispute about the dangers that lay in it had taken the close group of the elders a long time to discuss. But then there had been the Jedi council with a plea that could not be refused and a faith that Reaja hadn't shared in the beginning.
The young Jedi - Kenobi - had taken up great danger, when he insisted on going through with the ritual. There were reasons for why one of those involved had to be completely healthy to make it successful. But it hadn't been her decision and the Jedi with his self-controlled and exceedingly calm way had been more persuasive than she had ever thought possible. Nevertheless . . .
Just in the moment he collapsed, Reaja feared the worst. Worry for the Jedi flooded her heart so strong that she had to use all her strength to restrain herself from dashing to his side and checking his condition. The young man had no idea what he had gotten himself into.
He could lose his life.
Or far worse - he could lose more.
He could stay alive. With a soul that was so destroyed that he would never find peace again, would never be himself again.
She pushed back the horrifying images and shifted her attention towards the ritual that had come close to its end. The priestesses rose slowly and started to close the circle tightly. Every single woman had her designated place. It was now just the way it had been for centuries. Every movement was in accordance to the ritual, every breath was designated and full of meanings.
She was surprised how little fear she felt about making mistakes. Maybe it was just the long time she had already been at the temple or maybe it was just the security that lay in such correctly designated actions. One priestess after the other raised a hand to describe protective runes over the queen's still body. The runes were ancient and barely anyone remembered them outside the temple, but in their way they were fitted perfectly for the priestess who described it. The wisdom to use the different abilities and special gifts of the priestesses involved in this ritual and thus channel the incredible power awed her.
Power, bravery, faith, compassion, strength, calm, balance, determination, humour . . .
She was so sunken into watching the progress of the ongoing ritual that she didn’t realise the slight pause at first. Only the horrified glance of one acolyte standing next to her outside the circle brought back to her mind, that this pause had been caused by her.
She was the last link in the circle, the last rune - the one of hope and motherly love - it had to come from her. Her cheeks flushed hotly. The holiest of all rituals and she had caused a flaw! Hurriedly she described her symbol over the queen and sank to her knees next to the others, to spread the soft blue cloth the acolytes had brought over the fragile body.
She ignored the looks that were cast at her. What had happened, had happened and there was not a thing she could do to change the past. Luckily she had caught herself in time, so the ritual wouldn’t be endangered. Nevertheless this incident wouldn’t acquire her a good reputation among the older priestesses. She managed to get her thoughts back to the things happening in front of her just in time.
The melody the priestesses had begun to sing was different from the one before and sounded strong and harmonious in the high vaults of the temple. The cloth wrapped itself around the queen's body. For a short moment the room was being filled by an intense blue shining - then it disappeared as soon as it had appeared.
The cloth had vanished.
But on the queen’s face was a fine, pale-bluish glow. When the paleness vanished it combined with her skin and left it behind radiant and fresh, as if she was shining from the inside for a few moments.
Then her youthful features relaxed and she slipped into a deep, blissful sleep.
There was only one step missing. Reaja sighed and looked at the sunken form of the young man who still had his hands around the queen in a heart-warming protective manner.
Kenobi.
What followed now was her responsibility.
It was determined by her rune.

***

 

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