This is my first Star Wars fan fiction in a while. I hope you enjoy. Please Review
Decimation…no. Such a word is too light for such a tragedy. This world, once beautiful in my eyes, now lies before me as nothing but a wasteland; a wasteland of hollow life and empty purpose. The years may have passed since the cursed Order 66 was issued, but the horrors of that day still haunt me. I see people walking around, going through their lives as if nothing had happened. Simply walking about as if it never happened.
It's been a standard year since that fateful day. And every day I have woken up in a pool of sweat. Not a night passes where I don't see the faces of my fallen comrades. They call to me in my sleep, begging for my help, but I don't come. I just stand and watch… as blaster fire rips through their bodies, as the traitor's lightsaber cuts down my allies…my friends. Yet, among the dismembered and burnt bodies, I still hear their cries—as loud and clear as ever, amplified by my hesitation.
As a jedi I was taught that the light side would prevail. I had devoted myself…no, I had given my self, in mind, body, and spirit, to the Light. So why did I waver? Why did I stand on the balcony, lightsaber drawn, instead of jumping to my Padawan's rescue? Why did I stow away on the shuttle that was intended for the remaining younglings instead of staying behind to fight alongside my brothers and my sisters to defend that which I considered my purpose…my reason for existing?
Am I a coward? No, I am something much worse. I am a traitor. I had sworn to protect the balance of the force as a Knight of the Light Side, yet the moment the Dark Side was at our door step, I threw away my teachings and hid. I am no better than the clones who pulled the trigger nor the so-called "Chosen One" who had slain the younglings. However, my reluctance to risk my life is what allowed the Heavy Troopers to destroy one of the shuttles carrying some of the younger Padawans. I was supposed to be on guard at that dock. I may not have pulled the trigger, but without a doubt I am responsible for their deaths.
So here I am, one standard year later, still living. Or so I'd like to say. But living is not something enjoyable by a man such as myself. Like the people living in this empire, my life…my soul is hollow. However, it is not the oppression of the Emperor that has put me in this state. It is my selfishness that did this to me. I will not place the blame of my misery on the Emperor. I will not use Skywalker as the scapegoat for my actions. They may have instigated the bloodshed, but my selfish desire for self preservation is what led to the death of 36 padawans who today, had they still been alive, would be fighting to bring peace, and balance to the Force that I so blindly turned my back on. That sin is on my shoulders, not theirs.
I wish I could say that the mistakes of my past have driven me to fight for peace, to raise my lightsaber in opposition to the oppression that the Empire fuels. I wish I could say that I would make it up to those I failed by standing up for what we all swore to protect. I wish I could say that I am guided by the force toward a brighter future. But I can't. There is no atonement for what I have done…not in my mind at least. The faces of the fallen will forever haunt me. They will be the recordings of the one dark moment in my life, where a single selfish action on my part affected, nay, ruined the lives of so many that depended on me.
So I will live with this curse. I will walk this land with no company but myself and the voices of those I let down. I will sever all ties that I have with the force. I will give my lightsaber its funeral; a proper funeral, worthy of a being that would never falter in the face of fear. I will become but a memory of a memory; a hiccup in the annals of history. I will wander as a being so alone, so forgotten that his very existence is questionable to even the people who once knew him.
I am a Jedi no more.
--Signed: Rana Zorix
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