December, 4010 ABY
The world returned in fragments, heat, pain, the scent of ash.
I was being dragged.
Sand ground into my wounds, and each breath tasted of blood and fire. Somewhere behind me, the fortress still burned. The cliffs had crumbled. The sisters were ash.
Loss slammed into me like a tidal wave, suffocating and cold, Kaelrah's absence a hollow ache beneath my ribs.
Every second stretched, dragging like a cracked drumbeat in my chest, slow, relentless, echoing the space she left behind. Each heartbeat throbbed raw, a jagged pulse that hammered into my ribs, screaming her absence.
A cold weight settled over me, sinking like ice into my gut. I tasted the bitterness of regret and the sharp sting of helplessness.
In that unbearable silence, a desperate whisper clawed from the depths. Maybe it would've been better to die with her. To close my eyes on this broken world and see her face one last time, even if just for a moment.
But the ache of survival burned hotter, twisting like a knife: I was still here, alone, haunted by everything I lost.
I lay in the tunnels of Dathomir, time bleeding into itself, hours felt like seconds, seconds stretched into unbearable stillness. My body was numb, but the ache beneath my skin screamed. Gritting my teeth, I clawed together the shattered fragments of strength left inside me.
As I rose, the harsh tunnel light stabbed my eyes, a ruthless blaze that mirrored the fire that consumed my parents. Behind that unforgiving glare, their faces flickered like ghostly embers, seared forever into my mind.
For hours, silence held me like a cage, cold, empty, as if I were some animal on display.
My body throbbed with pain, battered and broken. Every agonizing step toward the light was a war against the rising storm of voices clawing at my frayed resolve.
Then, a faint call pierced the void, fragile but relentless, echoing through the oppressive silence.
I stumbled forward blindly, time bleeding away as my mind unraveled under the weight of that haunting sound.
Until I found it: half-buried in the dust of Dathomir, a rusted sword glinting faintly in the fading light, its blade stained with blood. I reached out slowly, trembling. My fingers closed around the cold hilt.
The weight of history pressed against my palm. Clutching the rusted sword, I stepped onto the searing sand. Each grain seemed to murmur the names of the fallen souls trapped in endless torment, their voices echoing in the heat.
Visions flickered behind my eyes, fragments of my past rushing through my mind, memories bleeding in from every corner.
The arena yawned before me, vast, ancient, encircled by black obsidian and shadow. Above, the sky bled blood. Imperial Star Destroyers hung motionless, blotting out the sun, silent witnesses to the slaughter.
The crowd's eyes burned with hunger.
From the shadows emerged the Pale Father.
Clad in blackened robes that swallowed the light, his obsidian mask hid any trace of humanity. He was death made flesh, a living nightmare from the Unknown Regions, a force none dared defy.
Blood trickled down his mask like a dark river, yet his presence chilled me deeper than any wound.
At the far side, the arena gates creaked open.
Alexander appeared, dressed in back armor that absorbed the light around him, his cape fanned in the air as sand blew around his body.
The same Inquisitor who had burned my past into memory. His black robes billowed like smoke, his blade stained with the blood of the innocent. He smirked, eyes burning with cruel amusement.
Alexander stepped into the arena, eyes cold as dead stars. His scarred face laughed, a cold, bitter sound.
He circled me like a predator savoring the hunt.
"You should have stayed dead, Lorenzo, just like everyone you loved."
"Because the truth is, Lorenzo, you give me joy, every time I find you there always something I can take away."
He spat on the sand before me.
"I should have ended you on Tatooine. But no. You dragged yourself through dirt and blood and survived. For what? To die here? To entertain these vultures?"
His gaze sharpened, piercing.
"Let me finish what I started. Erase your miserable existence."
The desert around us roared with fury, dust whipping into furious storms that clawed at my skin. My chest tightened, each breath shallow and jagged like broken glass. The weight of the Pale Father's offer pressed down, heavy as the crushing void inside me.
Memories crashed in my mind: Kaelrah's final gaze, her whispered warnings, the screams of my family swallowed by fire. A knot twisted sharply in my gut, hands trembling, betraying the storm I fought to bury deep.
I wanted to scream. To run. To tear the darkness from my soul and never look back.
But the silence was shattered.
I barely had time to lift my sword. The force slammed into my chest, a scorching blast that knocked the wind from me. Sparks flew through the sky as our swords clashed. Fire bloomed beneath my skin, sharp and consuming. My grip faltered; the rusted sword cracked, shards slicing cold through my fingers.
Blood welled fast, salty and warm, dripping onto the sand. The sting burned like acid, mixing with the grit underfoot.
Pain hammered in my ribs, each breath a shallow, ragged gasp. But I refused to collapse. Clenching the broken hilt, I steadied myself against the burning desert sun that beat down like a relentless hammer.
Alexander smirked, stepping closer, his shadow falling over me like a storm cloud. His eyes, cold and cruel, measured my faltering strength as a predator sensing weakness.
Alexander lunged, his blade slicing through the air with a high, screaming hiss.
I barely raised my sword in time.
The clash shook my bones, steel against rust, sparks bursting like fireflies in a storm. My arms buckled from the force. The blade's impact screamed in my ears, louder than the crowd, louder than my breathing.
Pain shot through my shoulder, sharp and hot. I bit back a cry.
This was the man who burned my home. The man who laughed as my mother died screaming.
He came again, relentless, a blur of black armor and crimson light.
I swung back, wild and reckless, rage drowning technique. I didn't care. I didn't need grace, I needed blood.
The jagged edge of my broken sword bit into his chestplate. Sparks flew again. He snarled, and I saw that flicker of pain behind his eyes.
The blade tore a gash across his face."That was hers," I spat, eyes burning. "That pain? That's just the beginning."
He hesitated. Just for a moment. Enough.
I pressed forward, blade trembling in my grip, my breath ragged. Each step felt like dragging a mountain, but I kept going, because behind his mask, I could still see the ghost of the man who stole everything from me.
Among the sparks of our blades, Alexander's strike tore across my chest blood trickled down my body, covering the sand in blood. He leaned in, sneering.
"You're still that scared little boy from Tatooine. Nothing's changed—except now, no one's left to save you."
"I staggered, mind splintering, barely processing what had just hit me. Alexander didn't hesitate. His next swing wasn't instinct; it was precision, merciless and deliberate."
"There was no rage in his eyes. Only satisfaction."
"I caught it, just in time. The clash sent a shock through my arms, bone-deep. Sparks exploded between us, and the sand kicked up, spinning wildly around my legs like the storm building in my chest."
"Is that it?" I spat through clenched teeth, blood and rage choking my voice.
I spat blood into Alexander's eyes, blinding him momentarily. Seizing the opening, I swung my sword with all my strength, slicing through his leg.
Alexander collapsed, breathless. I stumbled forward, each step a battle against the burning fire consuming my chest. Sweat stung my eyes, mixing with dust that clawed at my throat.
The desert sun scorched my skin, but I refused to falter. Rage surged, a defiant flame in the choking dust.
The Pale Father raised his crinkled, frail hand. Alexander began to lift off the ground, sand cascading from his armor like ashes drifting from a dying fire. Desperation cracked his voice as he pleaded, "Master, please…".
The Pale Father's voice was a whisper colder than death.
"You have disappointed me, young apprentice."
With brutal force, Alexander was thrown through the arena wall. Stone shattered. Bones broke. Then silence, he was gone.
The Pale Father's gaze fixed on me. Fear clawed at my bones.
He moved like a shadow made flesh, voice a twisted whisper.
"You've impressed me," he said. "Alexander was weak. He held too much of himself back. But you… You are strong in the Dark Side."
He paused, his breath cold on my skin."Join me, and I will show you the path to true power."
The desert around us roared with fury, dust whipping into furious storms that clawed at my skin. My chest tightened, each breath shallow and jagged like broken glass. The weight of his offer pressed down, heavy as the crushing void inside me.
Memories crashed in Kaelrah's final gaze, her whispered warnings, the screams of my family swallowed by fire. A knot twisted in my gut, sharp and unrelenting. My hands trembled, betraying the storm I fought to bury deep.
I wanted to scream. To run. To tear the darkness from my soul and never look back.
But my voice came out cracked, fragile. "Yes."
The ground shuddered beneath us, a silent protest from the world itself.
The Pale Father's smile was a shadow, hungry and satisfied."Good."
He turned, leading me away into the darkness.
As the dust settled on the arena and the Pale Father's shadow swallowed the dying light, I knew nothing would ever be the same again. Two years from this moment, I would face not just enemies without, but the darkness festering inside myself.