It was an angel that saved all their lives that dark day. The blockade had gone on for far too long: the Separatists had cut them off from all hope of rescue. More died each day, from blaster and hunger and sorrow. They whispered in the streets that the Republic would not be coming, that the Senate had left them to die. They said the Jedi would not save them.
They were wrong. Ever so wrong.
For, just when all hope had been lost, the saviors came. Two of the most powerful Jedi the Order had ever produced were on their way at last. The young children and their parents alike cried out for joy when the underground hyperwave told them who was coming. "The Hero With No Fear is coming!" small children cried. "The Negotiator," their parents whispered. "Kenobi and Skywalker," murmured the wind.
Flying their shining starships, they fought and broke the back of the deadly barricade. With each stroke of their swords of light, the darkness of oppression eased ever so slightly. A town, a city, a state: one by one, each were delivered by the mighty deeds of the brother Knights. A young woman, snatched by the hero from certain death, would forever tell stories of the blond and blue-eyed angel who saved her life. An avenging angel, to be sure, but an angel nonetheless, one who brought hope by his mere presence, who left swirling light in his wake that her Force-sensitive eyes could see. And for a short time, an ever-so short time, it seemed nothing could ever go wrong. The evil Separatists were gone. The people lived in peace and prosperity once more.
But a greater evil arose. The galaxy was plunged into darkness once more, a night without ending, without hope. The oppression returned, worse than before, for there were no Jedi to come to their aid. The heroes were dead, the villains victorious.
Many years later, a black-cloaked specter stalked the streets of this planet, restless and possessed of a dark power. The young woman, now made old by worry and care, watched him as he led his troops against her people, knowing him even now. She stared long and hard at the blank mask as he ordered the deaths of her family, weeping for what had been lost, for the darkness that swirled about him like a cloak. As the bloodshine blade descended to take her life, she whispered the name of the hero who rescued her people, who used to burn with an inner flame, mourning the bright-eyed angel who had saved so long ago what he now destroyed, the hero-turned-villain.
The fallen angel.