The Force felt different now, and Ahsoka wasn’t sure how much the difference was her. By walking away from the Temple, from the Jedi, she had given up her right to the Force–or at least that’s what she told herself sometimes. She knew it was a lie. The Force was always going to be a part of her, whether she was trained or not, the way it was part of everything. She couldn’t remove the parts of her that were sensitive to it any more than she could breathe on the wrong side of an airlock. Her authority was gone; her power remained.
But there was a darkness to her meditations now that she didn’t like. It was as if a shroud had been wrapped around her perceptions, dulling her vision. She knew there was something there, but it was hard to make out, and she wasn’t entirely sure she wanted to. The familiar presence of Anakin was gone, like a disrupted conduit that no longer channeled power the way it was meant to. Ahsoka couldn’t feel him anymore, or any of the others. Even the sense of the Jedi as a whole was gone, and she’d been able to feel that since she was too small to articulate what it was that she felt. The feeling had saved her life once, when she was very young and a false Jedi came to Shili to enslave her. She missed it like she would have missed a limb.
—Ahsoka, by E.K. Johnston