The roar of engines faded into the smoggy silence as Padmé's ship settled onto the landing pad. The metal beneath it groaned with heat, the air already thick with smoke and fury. Lava gurgled somewhere below, casting a flickering orange light across the jagged obsidian cliffs of Mustafar.
The hatch hissed open. Padmé stepped down fast, eyes wide, hair whipped by the wind. Her voice cracked with hope as she ran forward.
"Anakin!"
He was standing at the edge of the platform, back turned, body stiff like stone. His silhouette was twisted—shoulders broader, armor blackened by ash and rage. He didn't move.
Padmé reached him, grabbed his arm. "Anakin, I've been looking everywhere—I heard terrible things—tell me it's not true."
No answer. Just a long, slow breath through his nose.
"They said you killed the younglings. That you... That you turned."
"I brought peace," he said quietly, eyes still fixed on the lava below. "Order. Security. Everything the Jedi were too weak to do."
Padmé's face twisted in horror. "By killing children? By betraying everything we fought for?"
Anakin finally turned.
His face was bruised and cracked from battle. His robes were torn open, armor smeared with blood, soot, and Force burns. His eyes... weren't his.
"I did what I had to do," he said, voice low, accented with something colder than rage—certainty. "The Republic was already dead. The Jedi just refused to bury it."
Padmé stepped back. "This isn't you. You're not like this."
Anakin stepped forward. "Don't lie to me."
"I'm not lying—"
"You brought him here," he snapped.
"What?"
"You brought him."
"No! Anakin, I don't even know who—"
He looked past her.
Obi-Wan stood at the top of the ship's ramp, arms crossed, cloak billowing, face locked in stone.
Anakin's expression turned venomous.
And then, without warning, he slapped Padmé.
The crack echoed across the metal platform like a gunshot. Her body collapsed to the floor, hands over her face, gasping. Her knees scraped the metal.
Obi-Wan was already storming down the ramp.
"Oh hell no."
Anakin didn't even flinch. His breathing grew heavier. He stared at Obi-Wan like he was seeing the ghost of his own past.
"You're real brave, hiding on her ship like a rat."
"I was hoping I wouldn't have to be here at all."
Anakin's hand hovered near his belt.
"You shouldn't have come."
Obi-Wan reached Padmé. Helped her sit up, gently, checking her jaw. She winced.
He looked up at Anakin with fire in his eyes.
"You just hit the only person in the whole galaxy who still fucking loved you."
"I loved her!" Anakin shouted, chest rising with each word. "She was mine! And you brought her here to betray me!"
"She was never yours," Obi-Wan growled. "You don't own people, Ani. That's the kind of shit the Empire says, and I'm starting to think they got it from you."
"You don't understand," Anakin said, stepping forward. "You never did. You never saw what I had to do to survive this war. What I gave up. What I became for the people I loved."
Obi-Wan stood."Yeah? What'd you become?"
Anakin's hand moved. The hilt snapped into his grip.
"Free."
Obi-Wan exhaled slowly, drew his saber from his belt. Didn't activate it. Not yet.
"Then let's see what freedom looks like."
Anakin's eyes narrowed. The blade hissed to life, glowing red.
Obi-Wan's snapped on a second later. Blue and burning.
Padmé cried out from the ground, "Please, don't—"
Neither of them looked at her.
They were already moving.
Then the lightsabers clashed with a scream of plasma and heat, drowning out Padmé's voice as sparks erupted between them. Obi-Wan struck first, a tight arc aimed at Anakin's side—but Anakin spun, caught the blow with his blade, and drove a knee straight into Obi-Wan's gut with a force that sent him stumbling back.
"You always talked big," Anakin growled, circling, "but when shit got real, you hid behind the Code."
Obi-Wan coughed, recovered, and came back swinging—low, fast, precise. "You mean the same Code that kept your psychotic ass from getting kicked out the Order five years ago?"
Their sabers locked again, crackling violently as both men leaned into it. Sweat and blood already started to mix on their faces, their gritted teeth lit by the glow of the blades.
"You don't get it," Anakin spat, pushing hard. "I saw the future. The Jedi weren't saving anything. They were stalling their own death."
Obi-Wan broke the lock, ducked under a wild swing, elbowed Anakin in the jaw, and said, "And what, you're the fucking messiah now?"
Anakin wiped blood from his mouth, smirked. "Better me than a washed-up general who still thinks peace comes from rules."
Obi-Wan's knuckles went white on the hilt of his saber. He charged. Fast. No more precision—just rage. His blade came down in a blur of furious arcs, slamming into Anakin's again and again, forcing him backward toward the railing of the platform.
Anakin grunted, blocked one blow after another, but his foot slipped on the scorched metal. He reeled back, barely catching his balance. Then, with a savage twist, he slammed the heel of his boot into Obi-Wan's thigh—hard.
Obi-Wan stumbled. Anakin pressed in. Blow after blow, heavy swings meant to break—not disarm.
Obi-Wan managed to parry one, then another—but he wasn't fast enough to dodge the next. Anakin's saber caught the edge of his shoulder plate, slicing through armor. Blood hissed as it hit the overheated metal.
"Feels different when you're the one bleeding, huh?" Anakin snarled.
Obi-Wan grit his teeth. "You hit Padmé."
Anakin blinked. Just for a second.
"I said," Obi-Wan seethed, "you hit Padmé."
He dropped low and swept Anakin's legs, slamming him flat to the deck with a metal clang. His saber pinned Anakin's own to the ground for half a second.
And then—
They both let go.
Obi-Wan's saber deactivated.
Anakin's fingers uncurled from his hilt, chest heaving.
They rolled apart, stood slowly, fists clenched.
Obi-Wan cracked his neck. Blood dripped from his nose now.
Anakin's knuckles were already bruising.
Obi-Wan lifted his arms into a wide, open guard stance—fingers loose, elbows bent. "No sabers. No Force. You wanna end this? Let's go for real."
Anakin laughed, spit blood on the floor, and raised his hands. "Fine. Let's see if you can throw hands without your magic stick."
They moved in at once.
Obi-Wan landed the first punch—straight jab to the mouth.
Anakin countered with a body shot that cracked a rib.
Then it was a flurry. Blows to the face, ribs, stomach. Elbows to the chin. A knee into Obi-Wan's spine. Anakin shoved him into a wall and headbutted him so hard the platform buckled beneath them.
Obi-Wan wrapped an arm around Anakin's throat and threw them both off the ledge.
They crashed onto the catwalk below like twin meteors, coughing, bleeding, dragging themselves back up on shaking limbs.
No sabers.
No mercy.
Just two broken brothers trying to beat the love out of each other.
And the fire around them just kept rising.
They hauled themselves up like monsters dragging themselves out of graves—no elegance, no form, just muscle memory and fury. Anakin spit blood onto the scorched deck and rolled his neck until it cracked like a rifle bolt. Obi-Wan wiped his mouth with the back of his forearm, breathing hard, chest heaving.
Neither of them spoke.
They ran at each other again.
Anakin threw the first punch—a wild right hook meant to cave in a face. Obi-Wan weaved under it and drove his knee up into Anakin's ribs. The sound that came out of Anakin's mouth was somewhere between a grunt and a snarl, and then he bit Obi-Wan's shoulder.
Teeth sank in deep.
"Fuckin' savage!" Obi-Wan howled, punching him in the side of the head repeatedly.
Anakin didn't let go.
Obi-Wan slammed him into the side railing. Once. Twice. A third time. Finally, Anakin let go, but his teeth had torn through cloth and skin, blood now streaking down Obi-Wan's arm like red paint.
"*You wanna go like animals? Fine—*let's fuckin' go!" Obi-Wan roared.
He threw a brutal elbow into Anakin's throat, then twisted his body and judo-flipped him onto the catwalk. Anakin landed hard, coughing, but used the momentum to hook his leg around Obi-Wan's ankle and pull him down too.
They collapsed in a pile, rolling over each other, punching, elbowing, clawing, spitting. Anakin got the mount. Obi-Wan bucked him off. Obi-Wan got a choke. Anakin headbutted him again—this time breaking Obi-Wan's nose with a wet, meaty crunch.
Obi-Wan fell back, gasping, blood pouring from his nostrils.
Anakin stood, swaying, chest and torso covered in open bruises, cuts, and smoldering wounds.
"You look tired, Master," he said, voice shaking with adrenaline and hate. "Maybe I should go pay Padmé another visit. See if she still wants to negotiate."
Obi-Wan froze.
His eyes widened. Something cracked in him.
"You shut your mouth," he said quietly.
"Or what?" Anakin smirked, licking blood off his lip. "You gonna cry about it?"
Obi-Wan didn't cry.
He moved.
He moved like lightning.
With a scream, Obi-Wan charged forward, tackled Anakin through a section of railing. They smashed through it and plunged onto a lower platform—landing hard. Metal bent and groaned beneath them.
Anakin tried to rise—
Obi-Wan was already there, fists like jackhammers. Left, right, left, left, left—Anakin's head whipped side to side like a broken puppet.
But he wouldn't fall.
Anakin roared back to life, grabbed Obi-Wan by the throat and lifted him off the floor, staggering to his feet. Obi-Wan kicked him in the stomach mid-air, wrapped his legs around Anakin's waist, and spun them both over into the molten railing.
Their feet barely missed the lava below.
Obi-Wan dragged them both onto another collapsing platform. Their breath was ragged now. Their faces were unrecognizable—bruised, battered, and streaked in blood and soot.
Anakin staggered away, clutching his ribs.
Obi-Wan rose, limping.
They looked at each other.
Both were trembling.
Not from fear.
But from what was left.
From what they used to be.
From the ghost of a bond they couldn't bring themselves to let go of—even now.
Then, somewhere in the background... a faint clatter.
Anakin's lightsaber, rolling across the catwalk. It hit a beam and stopped.
He looked at it.
Obi-Wan followed his gaze.
Neither moved for a long moment.
Then Anakin reached.
Obi-Wan blinked.
"No—"
Snap-hiss.
Red fire erupted.
And this time, when he came at Obi-Wan…
...he wasn't angry anymore.
He was empty.
Just a burning shell with a blade.
And Obi-Wan... ignited his own.
And readied himself to kill the only person he'd ever truly called brother.
Their sabers clashed like thunder.
The moment they connected, sparks burst from the point of impact, lighting up their bloodied faces. This wasn't graceful. It wasn't clean. It was desperate. Brutal. Two wrecked souls swinging with everything they had left—not to win, but to end it.
Anakin came in hard, wild, reckless. Each swing was a full-body effort, arms and shoulders flexing with rage, teeth clenched, veins bulging. He wasn't fighting like a Jedi anymore. He was swinging like a man trying to erase the past with raw violence.
Obi-Wan blocked the first few strikes, but he was slower now. Hurt. He ducked a wide arc, spun, and jabbed forward—his blade grazing Anakin's side. The smell of burning flesh joined the smoke and the heat.
Anakin didn't scream.
He grinned.
"Come on, Obi," he rasped. "You taught me better than this."
Obi-Wan grit his teeth and drove forward. He caught Anakin's saber in a lock, pressed it down hard, then headbutted him in the face. Again. Again. Blood flew.
Anakin dropped to a knee, coughing, blade flickering.
Obi-Wan lifted his saber to finish it—
—but Anakin flared his fingers and blasted him with the Force, point-blank.
Obi-Wan flew backward, hit the ground hard, rolled.
Anakin was on him in an instant, blade slashing down in a furious flurry—Obi-Wan barely managed to roll away, each stroke striking sparks off the floor beside his head.
Anakin screamed, "You were supposed to believe in me!"
Obi-Wan shouted back, "I did, damn you!"
Their sabers clashed again—blue and red grinding together, blades spitting energy like lightning. They pushed into each other, shoulder to shoulder, shaking from the effort.
"You were my brother, Anakin," Obi-Wan growled, eyes swimming. "I loved you."
Anakin's face twitched. For half a second, something flickered there. Then it was gone.
"Then why the fuck didn't you stop me?" he whispered.
Obi-Wan pushed him back, kicked him hard in the gut.
Anakin stumbled—and Obi-Wan vaulted to higher ground, landing on a broken beam hanging over the lava flow. His chest rose and fell in broken rhythm, saber buzzing at his side.
"It's over, Anakin. I have the high ground," he said, voice heavy—not with pride, but regret.
Anakin stood below, breathing like a beast. Blood ran from his mouth. His grip on his saber was slipping. But his pride... his rage... it burned too bright.
"You underestimate my power."
"Don't try it," Obi-Wan warned, voice shaking.
Anakin roared and leapt.
Time slowed.
Obi-Wan's blade met him mid-air.
The impact was sickening.
Anakin's body slammed onto the slope beside the lava. His legs hit first—twisted, sheared away at the thigh. One arm went next, blade carving through flesh and metal in one savage stroke.
He screamed.
Not just in pain.
In betrayal. In rage. In everything he'd never been allowed to say.
He slid toward the lava, clawing at the dirt, eyes wide and wet with fire.
Obi-Wan watched, mouth trembling. He couldn't move. Couldn't speak.
Anakin reached out with his remaining hand, screaming through fire and spit, "I HATE YOU!"
Obi-Wan whispered, "You were my brother..."
He turned away.
Anakin caught fire.
His robes ignited first. Then the skin. The hair. The heat consumed him, and he kept screaming. Flames danced in his eyes.
But he didn't stop looking at Obi-Wan.
He didn't stop hating.
And Obi-Wan didn't stop walking—didn't look back—until the sound of fire was louder than the screams.
Then there was silence.
Just ash.
And the slow hum of a dying blade.
Obi-Wan stumbled across the blackened catwalk, every step dragging like it weighed a hundred pounds. The wind tore at his cloak. His shoulder was still bleeding. His legs buckled twice. The air was so hot it felt like breathing flame.
He didn't stop.
He couldn't.
Behind him, Anakin's body still twitched in the fire—what was left of it. Limbless. Charred. Not dead. Not yet. The Force refused to let him go. It pulsed around him like a warning, like a curse. The screaming had stopped, but the hate… the hate still burned, deeper than the lava.
Obi-Wan reached the ship ramp. Padmé was still there—barely conscious, crumpled against the wall of the entryway. Her cheeks were streaked with tears and soot. Her hands trembled when she saw him.
"Is he…" she whispered.
Obi-Wan looked at her, and for a moment, the stoicism cracked. His eyes welled up, his jaw clenched, but he said nothing.
He knelt beside her. "We have to go."
Padmé looked past him, toward the glow in the distance. She couldn't see the body. Just the smoke. The light.
"Anakin…" she whispered, as if the name still had meaning.
Obi-Wan didn't correct her. He just helped her up. She was weak, dizzy, still in shock. But she walked, barely, leaning on him.
They boarded the ship together.
The ramp rose behind them, sealing out the heat, the ash, the end of everything.
INT. COCKPIT – MOMENTS LATER
Obi-Wan sat at the controls, hunched, one arm pressed to his ribs. He didn't set coordinates. Not yet. The silence inside the ship was worse than the screams outside had been.
Padmé lay in the back, curled on her side, whispering to herself.
Obi-Wan stared at the stars through the viewport. His hands hovered over the controls, shaking.
He closed his eyes.
All he could see was Anakin's face, burning in the fire.
All he could hear was his voice.
I hate you.
And maybe, somewhere in the back of his mind, a voice that sounded a little like his own answered:
I know.
The ship shuddered, then lifted off.
They rose into the smoke, through the haze of the dying world, and vanished into the sky—two survivors who didn't feel like survivors at all.
Below them, on the banks of Mustafar, a machine was crawling toward what remained of a man—breathing mechanical life into a thing that should've died.
But the Force wasn't done with Anakin Skywalker.
Not yet.
And what rose from the ashes…
Wasn't him.