The Last One

Rating: T

Hello everyone! I have a lot of inspiration for this story that popped out of nowhere in my head a while ago but me being me, I couldn't immediately figure out how to put it in words correctly without losing myself in it and by the fact, my readers.

This is a Star Wars-medieval-Fantasist story with many make up things althrough most of the character are recongnizable, even though they had other assignment and backgrounds. A Vocabulary dictionnary will be added at the end of the book because of this.

Finaly, I don't own Star Wars or any characters in it (I hope I had, but nah. It's a shame.) except the OCs I come up with to help a little (even through they are technically George's since I used what he created to create them... Well anyway, no one have to know that).

No special warning so yeah, enjoy!

A long time ago in a world far, far away…

At the beginning of the Republic, people's childhood was full with tales about the Jedi; these powerful, selfless warrior that protected the civilization during the Great Galactic War. They were children's heroes, idols. No one can defeat a Jedi and that's what make them even more special. But that was just it, tales, stories created by old fools -or oracles as they called themselves- then was renewed in bedtime stories by mothers and fathers who didn't want their child to lose the freedom of dreaming too fast. However children grew up, they learned, they took their responsibilities, they accepted the reality and the dreams, the lies, faded away.

Waarin took a sip of his blue milk, his gaze wandering far away beyond the wooden palisade that isolated their small village from the majestuous, out of sight, yellow-green meadow. In fact, if you look out at it, you couldn't see anything but the meadow, not even the other small villages that were at less than a khelter away. Looking at it now, from his sit on the deck of the local Dome, the young twelve rotations old boy couldn't help but dream of adventures. What was on the other side? How do the seasonal traders to find their way to the Corridor without getting lost in the sea of campaign that was the meadow? If HE decided to leave the small village, could he found his way to the Republic's core? You never know before you try... remembered Waarin, a small grin on his face. He was pulled out of his thoughts when a small yet firm hand shook his shoulder roughly.

He jumped in surprise and turned his head around so fast he was sure he heard a 'crack'. Looking up, his eyes immediately met the brown orbs of a girl not much older than he was, her light brown hair were held in a high ponytail with which the perpetual wind of Ansion played harmoniously. Under her knee-length cocoa coat and slate gray bandana, she wore the typical Ansonian outfit: loose, dark green pants with brown, ankle-length, lace boots and a loose, crossed collar shirt whither all tons of beige mixed accordingly yet modestly. She also wore the traditional feminine brassard that each girl had to wear; it was a symbol which the meaning was lost with time. Despite her serious, grow-up look, he would always see his best friend as the little, naive girl whose smile never faded.

"The Sagart wasn't happy that you weren't in there, again, you know," she said, waving her hand in front of the polished wooden doors of the Dome.

"I don't really care, Bant'."

"Well, we did, big dreamer. Your parents are worried already. They don't want you to become a no-goal man, or worst, an oracle."

He only shrugged. She rolled her eyes. "You cannot stay in your dreams forever, Waarin. The longer you stay, the worst it would be to accept your responsibilities and with that, the truth."

He sighed, turned his head in the opposite direction without a word. He knew, like the other before him, like his parents still in there, like his friends, that the Jedi weren't true, that they were just stories, creative and wonderful stories, but stories nonetheless. He knew he shouldn't stay like this; passing his days dreaming of adventures and his nights wandering in the immensity of the starry sky; that he should, like Bant'ena said, take his responsibilities and forget the silliness of the tales and listen to what the Sagart, the representative of the Brave Circle, source of knowledge since thousand years, but a part of him didn't want to let go, a part of him wondered 'What if...' He didn't register that his friend had sat next to him until she put a gentle hand on his shoulder.

"I know it's hard for you to accept it, but you have to... One day."

He felt something drop on his knees and looked down. Holding the crystal blue wooden blade and the small plastikowy shield he used when he played Jedi versus Sith with his friends (before they turned twelve because it was as this state that the strict laws and protocol of the Republic took its place in a life), he turned to look at her, surprised. She only smiled, looking at something on his left.

His eyes followed hers, only to see a lone figure standing in the middle of the adjacent street. With his elongated face, flat nose, short dark brown hair in a mohawk cut and his pale green skin, the young evocii looked deathly in his dark attires, a red wooden sword cutting his reflection symmetrically. Waarin turned again toward the young human girl standing next to him... with a similar sword in her hand, yet this one was a emerald green color.

She shrugged in return, a friendly smile on her face. "I said 'One day'."

He just stared at her, dumbfounded. Bant'ena had always been focused on her future since she was ten, letting the dream fade with time. She, of all people, wouldn't had take part in something she didn't even believed anymore, it wasn't like her to do so... yet here she was, standing next to him, a wooden green 'lightsaber' in her right hand, her left's outstretched for him to take... and that childish gleam in her eyes he was sure he wouldn't see it again. Apparently, he was wrong. Grinning like an idiot, he took her hand and stood up. Both facing the waiting evocii 'Sith'.

"We shouldn't keep Enaq waiting any further, should we?" she asked, her 'lightsaber' ready for attack.

"Indeed," with that, they charged their friend, lightsaber held high in front of them.

The pure wind of Ansion district played with their curls and clothes as they played between the modest wooden huts surmounted by straw roofs that make office of houses. Waarin held out his crystal blue sword in his right hand and the small shiny shield in the other, a huge grin on his face. It felt so good, it's like if nothing had changed, like if they were still children. He attacked Enaq's crimson blade without mercy and after countless offensives, Bant'ena quickly disarmed Enaq and pushed him on the ground with her foot, her emerald plastikowy blade pointed at him..

"Surrender, Sith. You're alone. No one can save you."

"Never."

The young Evocii used an almost transparent rope to grab his weapon, to pretend he used the Force. Than he throwed some sort of red rose petals in the air and waited, his sword in defensive position. The thin figures of Jatta and Co'overma appeared in the street. They had black brown cloaks with a hood who covered their horns, the blue skinned chagrian held two red swords while Co'overma held one bloody dagger used as a shoto.

"Jedi scum!" said the eleven rotations old zabrak girl.

The two of them ran in the Jedi direction, weapons ready to strike.

"I think it's time to go" spoke Bant'ena with a grin on her face.

"Right behind you" Waarin replied with a joy he hadn't experienced since they turned twelve and sprinted as fast as a seven rotations old can, pursued by three angry 'Sith Lord'.

The five children ran everywhere, ignoring the harsh looks the passing adults gave them. Waarin knew what they were thinking, it could be read all over their faces; when you were older than twelve, you shouldn't play children games with your friend but preparing yourself for adulthood. Engaged a transition session with a master who could taught you the job you wanted to do, listen to the Sagart's advices and carry them out, provide an income and, later, found someone; that was what twelve rotations old and on were supposed to do, not... play around like silly children. Yet, they didn't care. It was their moment, maybe the last moment of complete innocence and no one would try to disturb it -they won't let it happen.

After a time, they arrived at the palisade that marked the end of this small village. Their face lit up with happiness at the view of the majestuous meadow. In fact, they can't see the end of it, no matter on which side of the village you were. The guards let them go play around but kept an eye on the small group. "Even if no war was going on didn't mean that everyone lived happily and safely, unsatisfied people were something current and when someone was unsatisfied, he or she could be dangerous," had said one of the guards before letting them out. They made their way to a bunch of hills in front of the village. There, the young ones can see all of their surroundings. They sat on the fresh grass and just watch the sun disappear on the horizon in a color gradient of gold yellow, fire orange, scarlet, wine red, light pink, fuchsia, deep purple and sea blue.

When the sun was nothing than a thin line, the cold wind was even more powerful that they can hear it hissed in the silence of the field. This wonderful silence was broken when the group heard Linath's voice, Co'overma's mother. Then others call were heard and the children had no choice but to go rejoin their parents. Jatta, Enaq and Co'overma herself quickly ran to their house. Bant'ena went down the hills and began to walk towards the village, but stopped when she noticed that Waarin wasn't following her. She climbed on the hill again, the cold wind playing freely in her long light brown hair. The young girl saw him laying back in the weath yellow grass, his hands behind his head and admiring at the stars. She kicked a small rock to catch his attention, he just hummed in response.

"We have to return to the village, it's late." Bant'ena stated calmly.

"Can you tell my parents that I won't be long?" he demanded in return, turning his head slightly on the side so he can met eyes with her.

"Waarin..." She trailed off in warning.

"Please, Bant'ena. You know I've always loved watching the stars, and this is the best season and place for that," He begged. He didn't want to let go already, tomorrow, he would have to for his parents' sake... for his sake. But if he could just lost himself in it a little longer, just a little...

She sighed in defeat and nodded slowly. "Fine, but you owe me one this time." With that, she returned to the village.

The young boy turned his head towards the stars, a dreamily smile on his face. One minute passed then five, then ten and he was still on the hill. He didn't know how time had passed when he heard a unknown rattling coming in his direction. He stood up, scanning the horizon. Then he saw whence the rattling came from. It was a majestuous horsae with a dark robe, on his back, sitting on a metallic saddle, was a tall hooded figure covered with a black cloak. Waarin had heard about horsaes but had never seen one. They were describing as magnificent loyal creature that was always there for his rider. Waarin approached the outsider hesitantly. It was sure that he or she wasn't from Ansion, ansionian used sadains or suubatars for transport, not horsaes. The boy was near the impressive beast, but he couldn't see the rider's eyes or face, even at this distance.

"May I help you?" Waarin asked, bowing his head politely.

At first, the stranger didn't respond but grabbed something on his left side before turned his head slowly towards the young boy. "Where's Janabe village?" he asked, almost ordered, in an angrily yet soft tone.

Waarin shifted uncomfortably on his feet, something in the stranger's tone that he didn't like, no one bit. But he gave the right answer. "This way. After the tallest hill. I will guide you."

The rider followed the young human reluctantly but he wasn't sure he could have done it himself, because the hill that the boy talking about was just a little bit high than the others. A stranger like him would never found out which hill it was. They reached the top of the hillock and bellow was the peaceful village. The stranger's lips turned into a devilish smirk when he saw how peaceful the people were.

"It's too easy" Waarin heard the stranger said and a weird "swung" before he saw a crimson blade, a real one, popped out of his chest from behind. The young boy collapsed on the ground, bleeding heavily. The last thing he saw was the stranger's yellow eyes before he headed towards the village, his weapon ready, before everything turned black...

The cold night hit Bant'ena hardly as she stepped outside of Waarin's house. She warned his parents that he would be late but they weren't happy about it. 'Too bad for him, I warned him first', thought the young girl. She wrapped herself in her cocoa coat as she managed her way to the wooden hut she shared her family. The village was silent, not even the omnipresent wind of Ansion came disturb it. A shiver went down her spine as she looked around her, searching for something, anything that can reassure her frightened mind.

I'm just being paranoid, sighed Bant'ena. That's it, just some misplaced paranoia. She continued to walk, each noise made her jump in fear. Finally, she began to run, afraid, very afraid. She turned the next corner so quickly that she stumbled and fell face down in a puddle. Blast... Her clothes were soaked, a lot. She got out of the puddle and sat in face of it, her back against the wooden wall of some hut. The moon was high in the dark sky, it angelic white light illuminated the entire district.

Bant'ena looked up at the beautiful orb that was this moon to calm herself. Strangely, the water on her clothes, hands and face seemed more sticky and dark that it supposed to. She lifted her right hand in front of her, the water had dried. She frowned than shook her head. Corellia district was better than here, thought the young -almost paranoid- girl, it was never like that, never strange at night... She sighed again, nervously. Her head leaning on the wooden wall, she groped the dirty ground with her right hand, trying to calm down. Than it touched something, it was smooth... fleshy. The young girl looked down and found a pair of glassy crystal blue eyes looking at her. She jumped but calmed herself when she recognized the dark skinned, horned head of her zabrak friend.

"Co'overma, you scared me! What are you doing on the ground? Do you play some game with the others?"

No answer.

"Co'overma?"

The fact that her friend didn't answer scared Bant'ena even more. The young zabrak girl had always something to say, the only times she didn't talk was when she was sick. Worried, she kneeled down in front of her and shook the zabrak's shoulder gently. It was wet. Bant'ena thought that her friend had stumbled like her in the puddles, but then, she noticed something: it wasn't water, it was blood, zabrak's blood. She stepped away, horrified. Her hazel eyes followed the trace of the blood up to the puddles she had fell in a few minutes ago.

Fear and horror grew up in her, slowly, mischievously, like if it wanted to make suffer each small parcel of her body. No, no, no, no, no... She looked at her clothes, covered with her best friend blood. Her gaze shifted to the body not far from Co'overma. She gasped. Linath. In the same state as her daughter. Then it followed the muddy street, bodies were everywhere, all inert. Panicked, Bant'ena ran the fast as she could in direction of her hut, addressing a prayer to Ashla. Please, make sure my family is alright... Please! She reached her house and quickly ran inside, obvious of the quadruped animal near the stable...

It was dark inside, the planks cracked at every step she did. The usual shinning blue-green curtains were torn in tatters, fournitures were crashed against the small entrance hall's wooden walls like if they were pushed by a central wave, the door who led to the common bedrooms was half destroyed, the walls were covered with deep, darkened scratches. The only light in the room was the moon's phosphorescent ray. The grim decor gave her goosebumps, it had too much similarity with the ones she have seen at the Holonet's horror drama. The young girl walked cautiously in, unsure what to do but mostly scared to death.

Suddenly, a piercing, painful scream echoed in the hut, if it's not in the entire village, followed by a deafening 'Crack' . Bant'ena froze. Mother! She sprinted without a second thought in the little alcove that served as their kitchen... to see the most horrible scene she had ever seen in her life: her mother was curled up in a corner of the room, in tears, her once beautiful face was stain with fresh blood. She was facing a black cloaked figure -the young girl was quite sure it was a man due to it stature- with a crimson double bladed sword in his right hand or it was a lightser? Bant'ena didn't know but what he was holding in his left hand made her heart sink in pain: it was her father's neck. It formed a strange angle, like if it was twisted, no... broken.

The cloaked figure let go the inert body of her father and walked towards the young woman, who scream in pain when the blade burned her belly, slowly. He backed a little. The woman almost fainted but glanced up at her assailant with a defiant-determined look on her face, one that Bant'ena had never seen. Her eyes shifted to her daughter and her features twisted with fear in a second, not fear for her but for her one and only daughter, now that the other had been burned to death. The cloaked figure turned around, his robe following fluidly behind him like a mischievous shadow. His hood fell down in his back.

"BANT'ENA! RUN!", yelled her mother with an angry tone but Bant'ena was too petrified to react, her mouth was dry, her body refused to do a single move. A gentle voice spoke in the back of her head. It was soft, almost inaudible, like a whisper:

"Bant'ena... look... him... remember... burn... face... memory... key... danger... remember...".

Still, her mind was unable to do a single thing. Suddenly, she felt a light breeze and somehow, her brown eyes were able to encrypt her assailant's feature in her memory, without her consent. He wore a sable black tunic, black slacks and leather boots, which highlighted his scarlet skinned face. Elaborate, inky black tattoos enhanced it like a dismal, prominent shadow giving his gold bloodshot eyes an even more terrifying air. A few little horns were dispersed here and there on the top of his head as well as two others on his temples. He looked more like a demoniac sbire than a mortal being. Her eyes drifted to the weapon he was holding in his gloved hand. A luminous, crimson blade came out of each extremity of a shiny cylindrical metal piece.

"Danger..." said the unidentified voice again. Bant'ena's mind slowly, very slowly, unfroze. Even if she hadn't seen in all her life, until now, she recognized it.

It was a lightsaber, more especially a Sith lightsaber. Like in the tales her now dead father told her before going to bed. So if lightsabers exist... No, it can't be. It was just tales. Tales, tales, tales...

Nothing happened for several minutes. Only the irregular breathing of the young mother and the whirring of the lightsaber disturbed the silence who reign in the room. The young girl finally trying to take a step back. However, a tight grip squeezed her throat, the air that she desperately wanted, needed, was took out of her lungs. She gasped, her small hands grabbed her neck, trying to remove the invisible hand. All of a sudden, she sensed her feet left the ground.

"You can't escape, young one." The deep, menacing voice echoed between the four facades of the hut. His left hand still in the air, the Sith's golden eyes examined her meticulously, then release her throat. Bant'ena fell to the ground, breathing heavily. She didn't care what happen next, she just wanted to breath. Her gaze followed the Sith's figure as he walked resolutely toward her mother, his lightsaber raised in front of him. "I don't need you anymore." he said with his deep, scary voice. The most horrible sound Bant'ena had ever heard crossed her mother's lips when the fatal blade perforated her chest. Her body collapsed. The young girl was unable to detach her eyes from her mother's body.

A firm hand grabbed her by the collar and pulled her out of the small hut. She was too shocked for thinking right. Her once almost unfrozen mind had return to his frosted stage. The scene replayed again and again in her head, but in slow motion. The pain was insupportable and it get worse gradually as the time passed. A big, empty hole had formed itself in her heart. She had lost everything, everyone... she was lost. The familiar cold wind played in her hair but she didn't noticed. The assassin dragged her toward one of the stable then pushed her in front of a green yellow suubatar. He impatiently signaled to her to climb on the animal's back, what she did like a well-programmed automate. The once joy that irradiate her was gone with her family. "You're lucky little one, today it's my good day. I will let you live but you have to deliver a message." She nodded, eying the deadly blade near her left shoulder. His demented, golden eyes shone behind his hood with cruelty.

"Tell the Czar... that the Republic... shall fall."