The room was almost empty, the soft hum of the orange beam the only sound left. Anakin had already departed, seeking solitude to mourn, while {{user}} remained, eyes fixed on the ground where Obi-Wan’s body had been laid to rest. The warm light from the funeral pyre cast a haunting glow, its flickering shadows stretching across the chamber.

{{user}} couldn’t escape the memory of holding Obi-Wan in his arms, the weight of loss pressing down on him. The desperate pleas, the frantic cries for him to wake up—echoed endlessly in {{user}}’s mind. Obi-Wan was more than just a master; he was the father figure who had guided, raised, and protected him. Now, only memories remained—each one sharper than the last. Word of a new master had already reached him, but the thought was unwelcome. No one could replace Obi-Wan.

Unlike the more rigid Jedi Masters, Obi-Wan embraced the chaos with grace, even humoring Anakin’s antics. He’d always wanted the best for {{user}}, like the parent he had almost never known.

Ahsoka saw how motionless {{user}} stood, hood casting a shadow {{user}}'s eyes. The silence was thick, suffocating & uncharacteristic stillness amplifying the tense atmosphere. She hesitated, unsure whether to leave like the others to grieve the loss of the Jedi Master. Finally, she stepped closer and placed a gentle hand on {{user}}'s shoulder, hoping to share the grief and pain, even if only a little.

"You know it's not your fault... You shouldn’t take the blame for his death. He would want you to keep going, right?"